


oh i wanna live my life

by boxesofflowers, Eeyoreneedsahug



Series: My Love, My Life [2]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: 1st Year Isak, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Anxiety, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Chris Berg gives a shovel talk, Chris P isn't trying but is somehow helping, Even is just there, F/M, Friendship, Jonas is trying, M/M, Mental Health Issues, P Chris loves ANTM, Panic Attacks, Schizophrenia, Season/Series 01, Therapy, Unrequited Crush, Vilde is trying harder, car crash, it's minor though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-03-24 02:41:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 44,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13801677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boxesofflowers/pseuds/boxesofflowers, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eeyoreneedsahug/pseuds/Eeyoreneedsahug
Summary: Something must be wrong with Isak. He’s just begun his first year and things are changing fast. His best friends seem to be ignoring him, he’s got a crush on one of them, and things at home are spiraling out of control. To make matters worse, he’s starting to think his brain isn’t wired right.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> We recommend that you read the first part the series first for the full effect (but technically this part comes chronologically before the first part so just do what you're going to do). 
> 
> We're so excited to share this next part with you. Guess what? IT UPDATES DAILY!

Isak is rarely certain of anything. Well, he’s certain that his homework is done correctly. He’s certain that his parents will find a way to pull him into their fights. He knows that his mother isn’t doing well and that his dad blames him. He knows a lot of things. 

He’s less certain that his parents even care. He can’t be certain which days his mother will act like his mother and which days he’s someone she doesn’t recognize. He doesn’t know what he’ll do with his life or what the parallel universe Isaks are doing at this moment. 

So, yeah, he’d say he’s rarely certain about anything. Except...he’s certain he likes Jonas. Not in the way he thought he liked Jonas when he’d moved to their elementary school in the fifth grade and instead of having no friends he had a really cool friend who could skate and play guitar and liked the same chips as him. He’s pretty sure he likes him like Ingrid liked him (before that all fell apart). Like Eva likes him. 

Isak is really not certain of what to do.

The thing is, he knows what he would do if everything was perfect and Jonas noticed that Isak liked him and he liked him back. He knows what he would do. But Jonas has Eva. Eva is almost as awkward as Isak feels and about five times as pretty (Isak might not have had a crush on a girl _YET_ but he knows pretty). And Eva might be his friend now too. They’ve been hanging out since the big blow out between Jonas and Ingrid and Eva. She doesn’t have any friends. Or rather she has the same amount of friends that Isak did up until Eva started hanging out with them (two. He thinks he has three now, but it might not last). 

Really, the BIG FIGHT was fairly good for Isak’s social life. He no longer had to deal with Jonas ditching him while they were hanging out with Ingrid and her friends. He didn’t have to put up with Sara trying to flirt with him (he knows he should be flattered but it just makes him feel uncomfortable). There were really only a few downsides to the fight: the part where he got slapped by Ingrid for covering up the fact that Jonas was going to break up with her (which in all honesty, he probably deserved. It had hurt less than Jonas asking Ingrid if she was alright after she had hit Isak instead of checking on him) and the fact that he now has to deal with Jonas ditching him for Eva. 

But here they all are, sitting on the back steps of Jonas’ house. They’re sitting in dead silence sipping their bottles of mineral water from the corner store down the street. 

“Can I stay over?” Isak asks, breaking the silence. Eva sighs and takes another sip of her water. Jonas frowns. 

“I don’t know, Isak. You’ve already stayed over for four nights this week. Do you want to move in?”

Yes.

“No! Of course not,” He shoots back immediately. “Sorry, I just...I don’t know...” 

“Ok, so then you don't need to stay. I want to spend some time with Eva. We’re going to watch a movie,” he says, his voice lowering even though Eva can still hear them.

“Yeah, ok. I understand.”

“You can hang with Elias or something. Or...I don't know, go to a party. Or hang with your parents.” Sometimes Isak wonders if Jonas knows him at all.

“I’m…”

“You probably haven’t even texted your Mom while you’ve been here,” Jonas says. He’s right. Isak hasn’t texted her. She’s texted him a lot. His parents probably haven’t even noticed that he was gone, if he’s being (painfully) honest. 

“Yeah, I have,” he says instead. “She was fine with it.”

“Ok,” Jonas replies, sounding like he doesn’t believe him. 

“Really. Everything is fine. She said that she understood wanting to spend time with friends before school starts up again.” He looks between Jonas and Eva. “I think it’s nice that we’ve all gotten to hang out.”

“Yeah. It’s been nice,” Jonas says slowly. “Ummm...so when are you heading home?” He asks. Isak’s stomach drops. He knows that’s his cue to leave. He’d been hoping that he’d at least get to stay until it got dark out. It’s barely 15:00. 

“Uhhhh...now, I think,” he says, because he knows that’s what Jonas would want. Jonas smiles at him. He knows he’s made the right choice even if it hurts. Jonas is happy. 

He grabs his coat from the hanger in the hallway, giving the two a quick wave before making his way back to the tram. The walk is only about 5 minutes but it feels longer. He wonders what the two of them are doing now. Probably making out.

He has support group tonight but he’s not really sure he wants to go. Vilde hardly shows up anymore so it's not as enjoyable as it used to be. He’ll go home. He’s hungry anyway.

The tram is almost completely empty. The ride is about 20 minutes, so he puts in his headphones, flipping through music to find something he wants to hear. 

Eventually, he lands on his playlist of American and British 80s music and he figures this will be fine for 20 minutes. More like 15 since he spent so long choosing something.

He stares out the window, but it’s getting dark and the lights inside the train make it so the windows are almost like mirrors. He can see himself overlaid on the passing scenes. He looks like shit. His hair is getting long, isn’t it? It's not too bad, but it's starting to fall into his eyes. 

He almost misses his stop. He manages to slip through the sliding doors right before they close though and stumble out onto the train platform. It's another 10 minutes to walk home.

He stops at a cafe on the way, getting something with a lot more caffeine than he should be ingesting. But he's tired and he wants to kill time, so he sits in the cafe scrolling through Instagram until he's finished. 

Evas posted a picture. Her and Jonas lying in Jonas’s bed. He closes his phone and tosses his empty cup before getting back out onto the sidewalk. Maybe he just doesn’t need to be happy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter!!!

“Marianne!” There are a few moments of silence. “Marianne! Fy faen.”

Isak can hear the shouting from down the street. He wishes that he had more couches to surf. He wants to turn around and run to Jonas’ house and beg to stay another night, but after this past week, he doubts that Jonas will let him for a while. There’s a crash followed by more garbled shouting. Isak tries to tune it out as he walks up to the front door. He wishes he had a room that he could easily access from anywhere but the front door. He’d locked his window before he left for Jonas’s and now he really regrets it. He would’ve liked anything that allowed him to avoid his parents. He opens the door. The house looks like a wreck. Standing in the middle of the chaos are his parents. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” his father demands, and Isak is almost pleasantly surprised. So they did notice he was gone.He knows he shouldn’t feel this happy that he’s getting yelled at, but at least they realized something was different. 

“Jonas’.”

“You’re supposed to be focused on your studies, not smoking weed with some little asshole.” He can tell his father’s drunk.

“It’s a week still until school starts. I finished all of my summer work ages ago.”

“Don’t talk back to me. You think you’re prepared but you’re wrong. Universities don’t dismiss poor first-term grades. And we both know that your goals are hardly tenable at best.”

And we both know I‘m not up to it, Isak wants to say. 

“I know, Pappa.”

“So why am I wasting my time with this conversation?” he snaps. Isak looks down at his shoes.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Change. Change your behavior. An apology isn’t worth anything.”

“Terje!” His mother screams from the other room, and his father sets his jaw. “Don’t walk away from me when I’m trying to talk to you!”

“I’m talking to your son. Would you care to contribute or are you going back to sleep?” He shouts back.

“You’re drunk!” She screams back, and Isak still averts his gaze. He would like nothing more than to just sink through the floor.

“So you can stay home in bed all day and I can’t go out after work for a drink? With my own money?” He turns around, storming back into the living room. Isak takes the opportunity to slip away unnoticed. He locks his bedroom door behind him, sinking down to sit on the floor in front of the door. He knows his door will stay locked and no one will check on him, but he still holds his childish habit of blocking the door with his body weight as well. 

He’ll wait until his father leaves again to make dinner for himself. His mother will have already eaten – she almost always either goes out with a friend or orders in. Sometimes she’ll remember Isak’s here too and bring him something, but ever since she almost put him into anaphylactic shock after ordering him shrimp pad thai (he’s allergic to shellfish, but whenever he brings this up she doesn’t seem to believe him) he’s preferred making things himself.

He wants to text Jonas, but he knows he probably won’t get a response. When he’s with Eva he hardly ever replies.

He grabs a book from his bookshelf at random. Romeo and Juliet. He’s read it too many times already but he lives by a strict “random book choice” rule wherein he has to read whatever he picks off the shelf. Given he only has about 15 books total, this usually results in endless amounts of re-reading. Though it can be nice to have something predictable. 

The Romeo and Juliet book came in a box set his mother bought for his birthday one year. It also had A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Hamlet, and Macbeth, but his favorite pick is Romeo and Juliet. He would never admit that if he was asked, but he thinks it’s sort of romantic.

Over the years he’s had to take most of the books she’s bought for him off of his shelf (they’re sitting in the bottom drawer of his dresser now) so that he wouldn’t have to include them in his rereading. They make him very anxious. Those are mostly his bibles. All of his bibles.

One time when Jonas was over he’d opened up the bottom drawer unthinkingly. He’d (only just) managed to talk his way out of explaining the numerous bibles by pointing out that he also stored his alcohol in that drawer.

He reads for about an hour or so before he hears the front door slam and the car start in the driveway. He stands up and almost immediately falls back over. Shit. He forgot to eat today, didn’t he? His vision is swimming with dots and his ears are rushing. Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out. 

He unlocks the door, walking carefully down the hallways. He wants to hold on the walls but he knows that it would be too loud, the floors creak and he doesn’t want to deal with his mother. He keeps walking softly until he sees his mother’s door is locked. He peeks through the crack in the door. The lights are off. She might be asleep.

He pulls out his phone once he’s in the kitchen.

_do you want to come over for dinner??_

It takes Vilde a minute to reply. 

_Sure. What are you having?_

He thinks for a second. He doesn’t really have much but he can probably come up with anything she’d want to eat. 

_what are you in the mood for?_ he texts back. _also do you have anything that isn’t pasta at yours?_

_No, sorry. Could you do the noodles with eggs? And chilis?_

_yeah. i don’t really have any veggies or fruits but yeah i think i can do that._

_It’s the one you made that time with the soy sauce and pepper flakes. And brown sugar I think???_

_oh yeah, right_ he hesitates. _text me when you get here. mama is sleeping._

_Ok! Will do <3 _

He heats up a pot of water on one burner and some butter in a frying pan on another.

The brown sugar takes him a few minutes to find. He’s the only one who really uses anything in the kitchen and he must have hidden it after the last time he made this recipe so his parents wouldn’t use it in coffee or tea. He’s still feeling like he might pass out, so he eats a spoonful of it straight from the bag. That’s how blood sugar works, right?

He mixes the sauce in a little cup decorated with a faded photo of him from barnehage. His hair was so long. He’d insisted on wearing rainboots even though it wasn’t raining and they were far too big but his dad wore ones just like them to work on some days. That was back when he thought his dad put the sun in the sky.

He cracks four eggs into the pan and grabs a medium-sized handful of pasta from the box.

By the time he’s straining the noodles, Vilde has texted that she’s outside. He walks carefully to the door and pushes it open, hoping that it doesn’t creak. 

“Rough day?” She asks, and Isak nods.

“You?” He asks leading her back to the kitchen. The kitchen is set off slightly from the other main rooms of the house meaning that they can cook and talk at a more normal volume in it. The problem is that there’s only one entrance. Isak knows it shouldn’t make him as nervous as it does. His parents aren’t violent. Not really. He just needs to have some escape routes. Just in case.

“It was fine. I’ve been making the budget.”

“Yeah? How’s it going?” He asks, focused on the eggs again. 

“It’s fine. We’re still poor. What’s new?” She says. Isak laughs quietly. 

“You excited for school?” He pushes the eggs around in the pan.

“Uh...no, to be honest.” She picks at a loose thread from her sweater.

“Has anyone else transferred from Ura?” Vilde looks up from her sweater sleeve.

“To Bakka?” Isak nods. “Not that I know. Chris is going to Nissen.”

“It’s always good to have a fresh start, yeah?” he offers, and she shrugs.

“I just want to find some friends I can be Russ with,” Vilde says, beginning to grab forks.

“I wouldn’t jump the gun.”

“I have to jump the gun, Isak. What if in a year I don’t have a Russ bus group?” She reaches up to grab the bowls.

“Then everything will be ok.”

“Everyone else is also going to be starting their buses. If I don’t make friends for a bus group then no one will hang out with me. Every social event hinges on having a bus group,” she says, turning away to get two glasses from the cabinet. She fills them with water and puts them on the counter. 

“V, it’ll be fine. Trust me. You’ll find people, I promise.” The eggs look about done so he turns off the heat, giving them one last stir with the wooden spoon.

“If I don’t make people like me early, they won’t like me ever. I don’t have the money to buy my way in late.” He pours the noodles on top of the eggs.

“It’ll be fine. How much of this do you want?” He asks. She bites her lip.

“Uh...do you know the calories?”

“V–” She cuts him off.

“No, not because of...I’m just wondering.”

“I don’t know.” He stirs everything together with the sauce.

“It’s just...I need to be liked. They won’t like me if I’m not looking my best, you know?”

“V...come on. You’re great. Just...eat however much you want, ok?”

“Ok.”

“I just am about to pass out so I need to dish this out quickly.” Vilde frowns.

“You should’ve said! Sit down, I’ll do it. You look chilly.”

“I’m fine,” he says, laughing softly, sliding down the wall next to the fridge to sit on the floor. Vilde passes him one of the glasses of water.

She walks into the living room before Isak can stop her, and comes back with a throw blanket. She lays in on his lap, grabbing her bowl and sitting across from him.

“Are you feeling ok?” She asks.

“Yeah. I...I just forgot to eat today,” he says. 

“Isak!”

“I was at Jonas’...for the past four days. I just...I’d been eating all of his food.”

“Seriously? Four days?” Vilde asks, and he nods. “Isak. Why didn’t you–”

“I didn’t want you to worry,” he cuts her off. 

“I’ll always be worried if you insist on treating yourself so poorly.” She hands him a bowl. He immediately starts eating.

“Slow down,” Vilde advises. She’s right. A second later his throat tightens up. He closes his eyes and breathes slowly. He’s eating like he hasn’t seen food before. That’s not something he should do.

“Fuck, that’s so spicy,” he says. She laughs.

“Uh, yeah. That's the point. You remember this right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I just should not have eaten that so fast. Shit.” He breathes deeply again. He laughs and she laughs too.

“Feeling more like a human?” Vilde asks after a few seconds. 

“Just barely,” he jokes back. “I have to let the food have time to kick in.”

They sit eating their bowls for the next several minutes. Eventually, Isak speaks again. 

“Do you think we’ll still see each other when school starts?” He asks. It hasn’t been a problem before, but maybe this is the year when Vilde decides that he’s too much work. Maybe she’ll decide that she’d better off with her friends. Isak isn’t a prize when it comes to friendship. He’s needy and emotional. He’s sarcastic in the worst moments. He’s screwed up and drags other people with him because he can’t handle anything on his own. Vilde isn’t obligated to stay. Maybe this is the year she figures that out. 

“Of course we will, Isak. Maybe not as much, but it won’t be the summer anymore, will it?”

“I guess not.”

“We always make time for each other,” she reassures.

“Are you going to start going to support group again?” He asks.

“Probably not,” Vilde says after a minute like that very moment was when she made the decision. She twirls more pasta on her fork, taking a small bite.

“Oh,” Isak says. It’s not like he really wanted to go either. It was just sentimental. They’d been going together, on and off, since they were twelve. 

“I think that just meeting you helped me more than that group did, anyway,” Vilde continues. Isak rolls his eyes, smiling. 

“Yeah, right.” She smiles back.

“No! I'm serious! Having you as a friend is great. Having someone who can kind of understand what I'm going through.”

“Plus you dated me for a bit.”

“If you can call it that.” She pokes him in the chest. Vilde is the only one who knows about his crush on Jonas. She's sworn it to absolute secrecy.

“We can call it that,” Isak says. If they don’t call it that, he’s not really sure what he’ll do. Get another girlfriend, he supposes. That’s what he’s supposed to want, right? 

“Ok, Isak. We can do that,” she says softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let us know what you think in the comments or on Tumblr! :)
> 
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> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How's everyone liking this?

There’s a voice from over his shoulder. Soft and familiar, but definitely out of place. 

“Isak?” He turns around to see Vilde, clutching a textbook to her chest, biting her lower lip. He can’t stop the little, relieved laugh that slips out.

“Yeah, hey. I thought–” He cuts himself off when he realizes they’re both talking at the same time. She giggles.

“I didn’t know you’d be at Nissen,” she says, tucking a few strands of her white-blonde hair behind her ears. Someone in the throng of people rushing down the hallway bumps her and Isak has to catch her before she falls over.

“Yeah, I thought you said you were going to Bakka.” She bites her lip again, tilting her head slightly.

“Well, Chris decided on Nissen and...I don’t know. I wanted to have at least one friend. It was pretty last minute.”

Isak is about to reply but he’s cut off when Jonas calls from down the hall.

“Isak! C’mon!” 

He closes his locker, and Vilde gives a little smile and a wave before heading back down the hallway. He wants to call after her, say something, but then Jonas is there and they’re talking about Eva and capitalism and Vilde is gone.

He sees her around and she's quick to wave at him. They don't have any classes together, and their schedules for lunch don't line up, so they haven't seen each other much but it's nice knowing another face in the crowd.

He hears her name come up in a conversation between Eva and Jonas on the bus. He wants to ask how Eva knows her. If Eva likes her. But he stops himself. Vilde might not want to be friends with him at school. She’d told him she’d still talk to him outside of school, but he doesn’t really know if that carries over into asking about her and acting like he knows her. 

He wouldn't want to fuck up her friendship with Eva or anything. 

“Eva...we can’t hang out this afternoon. I’m hanging out with Isak today,” Jonas says and Isak looks up from his phone. Really? Together? They’re hanging out without Eva? They haven’t done that in weeks. Even though he sees his best friend almost every day, he still misses him. Jonas gives him a significant look. 

“Oh...right! We are,” Isak says. “Ummm...so where...which stop do you want to…” Isak trails off. 

“We can just go over to your house,” Jonas says. Isak swallows. That’s not a good idea. He’s about to say so when he notices what Jonas is doing. Shaking his head slightly. 

“Oh...sure,” he says slowly. Jonas nods. Ok. That was weird but he can go with it as long as they’re not actually going to his house to hang out. Things have been tense lately. The last thing he needs is to introduce another person (someone he actually likes) into that mix. 

“Ok. Sure. Will I see you later?” Eva asks. Jonas nods. 

“Yeah. Probably. I’ll text you if I can’t,” he says. She sighs. 

“Well. This is my stop. I might see you later,” she says. Jonas pulls her into a quick kiss. 

“I’ll try to be there.”

“Ok,” she says as she steps out of the doors. They sit in silence for a few moments before Isak speaks up.

“We aren’t really going to my house?” He confirms, and Jonas shakes his head.

“No.”

“Then where are we going?” He asks. 

“To Elias’ house,” Jonas says. Isak’s stomach sinks. So not just the two of them, then. 

“Who’s Elias?” 

“You don’t know Elias?” Jonas asks. ‘No, of course, I don’t know Elias. You’ve ditched me a lot recently’ he wants to say. Instead…

“No...well...maybe I’d know him on sight? Does he go to Nissen?”

“Ummm...yeah. You don’t have to come along if you don’t want to.”

“No! I can meet him, right?” Isak asks. 

“Sure. I mean. We’re going to be smoking,” Jonas says. Oh. Ok. They don’t actually do that much. He’s smoked before but...it’s not a regular thing. 

“Sure, man,” he says. “Sounds fun.” It sounds a lot less fun than whatever Isak thought they’d be doing. Maybe...McDonald’s? Or the movies?

“Yeah...I’ll just...I can text him and say I’m bringing a friend,” he says. Isak’s stomach drops. Jonas wasn’t planning on actually hanging out with him. It was just a ploy to keep Eva from asking questions. Isak doesn’t matter to him. 

“Oh...um...if it’s a problem I can just go home.”

“That would...that would probably be best,” Jonas says. Isak wants to cry.

“Ok. Yeah...sure...I get it,” he says, trying not to sound too upset.

“I always like hanging out with you, bro.” 

“Yeah. Me too.”

“But it’s just...I just met him and I’m not sure how he’ll feel about me bringing along a friend when he thought it was just going to be us smoking, you know?” 

“Yeah,” Isak says. More than you know. I thought it would just be us hanging out today too. 

“Thanks, man. You’re the best. I’ll see if you can come along next time.”

“Ok. Sure.”

“Isn’t this your stop?” Jonas asks. Shit. He was hoping Jonas wouldn’t notice.

“Yeah. I’ll see you around,” he says.

“See you!”

The bus pulls away. He feels crushed. He wants to call Vilde but he’s not sure she’ll want to talk. He’s bothered her enough. He’ll just wait until she reaches out first. Which, to be fair, might not actually happen. 

“Can we be friends at school as well?” Isak asks Vilde the next time she’s over. It’s only been a few days since he’d wanted to talk to her. She’d even said that she’d been worried. It made him feel...warmer? Like someone actually cared. They’re in the kitchen again, collapsed on the floor. Isak’s head is in her lap and she combs through his hair with her fingers. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” She says, her hands stilling for a second before she goes back to playing with his hair.

“What do you mean?” He asks, trying not to sound hurt. 

“I want to find my own group. You already have a group. If we let on that we’re best friends, I’ll stop trying to make new ones,” Vilde explains. It hurts but she also called him her best friend which softens the blow. 

“I guess?” He says. 

“I love being your friend but I also need to have other people,” she says. “You have to get that?” She asks. He doesn’t really. He has had Jonas since fifth grade but before that, he didn’t have friends. Vilde came along just a little later. Besides them and Eva, he’s pretty sure that no one cares. He doesn’t really understand why Vilde, who has Chris (and sometimes her mom) in addition to Isak feels the need to make so many new friends. He’s just not good enough. 

“But you hang out with Chris?”

“She’s a girl. It’s different. People will think you and me are dating or something. Plus, our schedules don’t line up anyway. If they did it wouldn’t be as bad.” 

“Alright,” he finally says, and she smiles.

“Thanks for understanding.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let us know what you think in the comments or on Tumblr! :)
> 
> Follow [poeandbeaux on tumblr ](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com) for more information!  
> Send us prompts [HERE](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com/ask)  
> [Chloe’s tumblr](http://chloebeaux.tumblr.com)!  
> [Priscilla’s tumblr ](http://boxesofflowers.tumblr.com)!  
> 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

“Pappa, I said you don’t need to drive me. Really. I know where I’m going,” Isak protests halfheartedly, and his father gives him a glare.

“It’s not about you getting lost. It’s about getting there on time. First impressions are key.”

“I’ve already been at school now for a few weeks,” he points out.

“Isak, if I want to give you a ride I don't understand why we need to argue about it,” his father replies tensely. 

“I like to walk.” Isak knows he’s pushing too far. He should stop.

“We don't spend enough time together. This is our time,” Terje says with a sigh. 

“Ok,” Isak says. 

“Don't give me an attitude,” he says. Isak wants to laugh. Out of humor or frustration or some combination, he doesn’t know. The one response without attitude is the one he gets called on. He really wasn’t trying. He says as much.

“I'm not trying to.”

“I swear, you can be just like your mother.” 

Isak’s not sure how to take that. Like his mother in that he pushes back? Or like his mother in that he isn’t trying? He’s not sure he really likes either of those options. He loves his mother, but from what he’s been hearing from their conversations lately, he’s pretty sure his father no longer does. What does that mean for him? Does his father not love him like he no longer loves Marianne? Or does Isak remind him of who he fell in love with and of the positive memories?

They drive in silence for a while before his father pulls up to a drive through. He turns to him.

“Would you like a coffee?” Isak almost wants to turn around to see if there's someone behind him his dad could be talking to.

“Uh, sure.”

“Good man.” Terje leans out the window toward the microphone. “Two black coffees with sugar.” 

Isak would say he likes cream in his but he doesn’t want to fuck this up. It feels so fragile. His father hasn’t tried this hard in years. Maybe this is a turning point. Everything could be changing. He tries to keep his hopes down, but it’s so hard. This feels like something important. This could be special.

When he hands Isak the coffee cup their hands brush each other's and Isak swears its the first time in years Terje has touched him in a neutral – maybe even loving – way.

As they start to drive, Isak stares down at his cup. It’s a symbol, he decides. This is a peace offering. It shows he’s trying. 

“I know I’m hard on you. I just want you to be your best. Make me proud,” he says, and Isak wants to cry.

“I know,” he says shakily. His father gives him a small smile.

“Aren’t you going to drink any of your coffee?” He asks. 

“It's hot still. Plus I can always drink it in class.”

They’re silent for another moment, and when they roll to a stop at a red light his father turns to him.

“Would you like me to pick you up?” He asks, and Isak is immediately confused.

“After school?”

“Yes. When else?” He laughs lightly and it helps Isak relax.

“I'm done at around 15.”

“Alright, 15 it is,” he says with a nod, keeping his eyes on the road. They take a left turn.

“Really?”

“Why wouldn't it be?”

“No, no, that's fine. That's great,” he stutters, his heart beating in his ears.

They pull up to the curb and Isak gets out, slipping on his backpack, still holding his coffee. His father waves goodbye, and Isak waves back.

“Where were you man?” Jonas asks as soon as he sits down at their shared desk. “I thought you were skipping. Which would have been really weird because school is your life.”

“Really? It’s not my life…” Isak says unconvincingly. He pulls out his notebook and pen, trying to keep as quiet as possible. The teacher’s already started lecturing but she hasn’t noticed Isak’s late.

“Ok...whatever. But really, did you come in early or something? I didn’t see you around.”

“I got a ride,” Isak says trying to hold in his excitement. 

“Yeah? From who?”

“My dad,” he admits after a few seconds of hesitation. 

“Really? No shit. He hasn’t driven you anywhere since…”

“Since you’ve known me,” Isak finishes. Jonas nods. “I think...I think he might be trying to fix things. I think he’s trying to make up for how much they’re fighting.” Isak can’t help but feel excited at the prospect. He knows he’s getting his hopes up. He promised himself that he’d never do that again. But...it feels so real. 

“I hope it all works out,” Jonas says smiling. 

“I hope so too.”

“Mr. Valtersen, is there something you’d like to share with the class?” The teacher asks, and Isak feels his face flush. He can feel everyone’s eyes on him.

“No ma’am.”

“Then you’ll have no problem answering the question I just asked.” Fuck. He glances at the board. There’s an equation written up – the function for an ellipse. 

“Uhhhh…yeah sure. Ummm…”

“I asked, given the equation, where is the center?” Oh. Easy.

“Negative 7, 8,” he says immediately, and the teacher narrows her eyes. The whole class is looking at him now, but he tries not to think about it.

“Incorrect. Clearly–” She starts. 

“No, I’m right. That’s x plus 7,” He cuts her off.

“Yes, but–” he already knows what’s she’s going to say. _Yes but your x and y values are reversed_. She’d be right if the equation was different. But it’s not.

“X plus 7 over b squared, not a. I’m right.” There’s a hum of “oooh”s throughout the class but they’re silenced with one glare from the teacher.

She looks at the equation again and frowns. She turns back to the class.

“Yes. You’re right. Apologies. But please pay attention. I’m sure Mr. Vasquez doesn’t have the same luck you do.”

Luck. Jesus Christ. What a joke. He’s the fucking master of ellipses. Jonas gives him a little fist bump and his heart flutters in his throat.

That afternoon, Isak’s waiting outside on the bench at exactly 15. He doesn’t want to show up late and piss off his dad.

He waits 10 minutes. 20. An hour. No texts, no calls. Still, he waits. At 17:25 he figures his father's probably not coming. He tries to call, but there's no response. His texts have gone unanswered too. That is until 17:39 and he gets one line.

_busy with work_

Isak wants to cry. Scratch that, he is crying. It's so stupid. He doesn't even like getting rides anyway. Why did he think his dad was going to come through? He never comes through on anything. What makes this any different? He shouldn't have gotten his fucking hopes up. His hands shake as he texts back.

_no problem_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let us know what you think in the comments or on Tumblr! :)
> 
> Follow [poeandbeaux on tumblr ](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com) for more information!  
> Send us prompts [HERE](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com/ask)  
> [Chloe’s tumblr](http://chloebeaux.tumblr.com)!  
> [Priscilla’s tumblr ](http://boxesofflowers.tumblr.com)!  
> 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is late because I was at an awesome performance of A Little Night Music!!! :)

Halfway through his chemistry class, he starts to feel restless. Then, the restlessness grows into a feeling of dread. Of what, he doesn’t know. He slips away to the bathroom, locking himself in the handicap stall, sinking down to sit against the wall. He feels his heart beating in his throat. The dread grows into panic. 

His chest is heaving, his vision closing in. The walls are closing in. He rests his head on his knees, his hands locked behind his neck. He wants to curl into a ball and sleep or cry or disappear.

He knows what this is. He’s had panic attacks for almost as long as he can remember. Intellectually knowing that doesn’t make it feel any less like he’s dying. He’s dying. He can’t breathe. He’s going to die. His mind is racing. 

He hears something, and immediately he wants to vomit. 

_“If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off. It is better for you to enter life maimed than with two hands to go into hell, where the fire never goes out.”_

He wants to cry. He wants to throw up. He forgot how real this feels. How much it scares him.

It's fake. It's not real. It's just in his head.

_“They will throw them into the blazing furnace, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”_

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He tries to take a deep breath.

It's not real. None of it's real. He's ok. Everything's ok.

The voice doesn't come again and his anxiety starts to fade, leaving him with just a faint buzzing in his chest. He finally feels like he can breathe, though he still feels on the verge of vomiting.

When he finally feels well enough to actually go back to class, he doesn't even make it back to his seat before the teacher questions him.

“Get lost, Mr. Valtersen?”

“No sir.”

“Take your seat and get back to the exam.”

“Yes, sir.”

It's a good thing the exam is so easy. Chemistry was his favorite subject in middle school and he'd done a lot of studying on it by himself so this class wasn't really difficult. Even the new material comes easily. He still manages to finish the exam in time, and that means he only has one more class before he can go home. English, another one of his easier subjects. His father, being a stocks trader, speaks fluent English (and Danish, Swedish and Finnish, but Isak never really bothered to learn those) and it's pretty similar to Norwegian, to be honest. It doesn't hurt that Isak watches almost exclusively American tv and movies. 

He got placed into English three, but even so, it's still pretty basic.

There's a guy in his class – a third year – who Isak’s had his eye on. Not a crush per say, but more of just...an attraction. He's somewhat of an asshole, to be honest. Not to mention he has a girlfriend. A 2nd year. But that doesn't stop Isak from fantasizing. But of course, they're just fantasies – he'd never really...he wouldn't act on them. It wouldn't be right.

They're reviewing the past tense when Isak hears the voice again.

_“Then they will go away to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.”_

Fucking hell. He tries to focus on reading the handout the teacher passed around. It's really simple stuff. At least for Isak. The rest of the class is uneventful, and Isak is the first out the door once the bell rings.

Hallucinations. They can be brought on by panic attacks, right? It doesn’t mean anything. But...it does. Of course, it does.

Jonas isn’t in school today. If he was, Isak is pretty sure he would have tried to find him to talk about his panic attack. Probably not the other stuff though. Panic attacks are one thing. Hallucinating is another.

Talking to Jonas about his panic attacks is something he never would do normally but he’s feeling so...vulnerable. He feels like everything is falling apart and he’s barely holding it together. Or maybe he wouldn’t have gone to talk to Jonas. Jonas would have been sitting with Eva and probably wouldn’t have even cared if Isak was there. He’s been doing that more lately. Telling Isak can’t come over or stay the night (it’s not Jonas’ fault. He doesn’t know how bad it can get) and then binge-watching shows with Eva. 

And Eva. Isak’s pretty sure that as the school year goes on, Eva likes him less and less. He’s probably just being paranoid, but he can’t help but think that she’s desperate to get any friends who aren’t him. He knows that Eva only talks to him when Jonas is around. Even though they Skype a lot, Isak is doesn’t think it’s out of enjoyment of his presence but more out of boredom or obligation that she calls him. Eva is as friendless as Isak (she just seems to care more). 

Not that he’d ever tell Eva about any of this. Maybe if they’re friends for a few years. That doesn’t seem likely though. If she and Jonas break up, she won’t seek him out. Why would she? She doesn’t care. 

Someone who would care, though? Vilde. He knows she told him to back off during the school days but...he can’t help it. He needs someone. He can pretend not to know her well. He’s the master of acting. 

Isak can see her from across the schoolyard when he gets out of class. She’s sitting with Eva’s old friends. Ingrid. Sara. Then there’s Chris. Vilde. He can do this. 

“Hello,” he says walking over. They stare at him. Vilde frowns. Ok. Not the best reaction. 

“Hi?” Ingrid says after a few moments. 

“Ummm…” he starts. 

“What are you doing here?” Sara asks, giving a nervous smile. Sara...likes him? He thinks. He doesn’t really know. She wasn’t quite as mean to him when Jonas broke up with Ingrid as Ingrid was and before that, she did flirt with him a bit. 

“Just thought I’d say hi,” he says, flashing what he hopes is a winning smiling in her direction.

“Do you want to apologize?” Ingrid asks, still looking bored. 

“For what? Hurting your hand when you slapped me?” He shoots back without thinking. He hears a gasp. 

“You slapped him?” Vilde asks. Oh, right. He hadn't told her. It hadn’t seemed important with everything else going on.

“He knew Jonas was breaking up with her for that slut and he didn’t say anything,” Sara says. She must think she’s being reasonable. “It was well within her rights.”

“Yeah. I guess so,” Vilde says looking down at her hands. “Ummm...I’m Vilde!” She says looking up at him. “And this is Chris,” she says gesturing towards her other friend.

“Isak,” he says shortly. “Umm…” he starts. 

“We were talking. Without you,” Ingrid says, clearly dismissing him. 

“Ok,” he says. He stands there for a second before turning to walk away. A few feet away he turns and makes eye contact with Vilde. “Call me,” he mouths. 

When she finally does it’s a few hours later. 

“Everyone thinks you were trying to ask me out,” Vilde says as soon as he’s picked up.

“What?”

“The ‘call me’ thing. It wasn’t subtle.”

“It wasn’t really meant to be,” he says. 

“Could you have just waited for 2 more hours? Or even 20 more minutes? I’m really trying to not screw this up.”

“I really needed you,” Isak says, trying to not sound as pitiful as he feels. 

“I know but could it have-” she starts.  
“If you think your friends wouldn’t want you anymore because you were friends with me, why be their friend?” He asks, cutting her off. 

“I don’t know...I just...This is the fresh start I always wanted. They only know the new Vilde. And they hate Jonas and Eva. And those are your best friends. What would they think if they knew we were close?” She has a point.

“Can I text you if I have a panic attack next time?” Isak asks. He hadn’t been sure if that went beyond the ‘no school contact’ rule Vilde had made. 

“You had another one?” She asks, her expression quickly changing to concern. He’s only told her about some of them. He doesn’t want her to worry any more than she already does. “Oh my gosh, I’m - that’s..” She stutters.

“Yeah. I...It’s getting worse,” he says, choosing to be honest for once.

“Worse? Isak…” Vilde starts but trails off.

“Yeah like…”

“Isak. I know you haven’t been telling me the truth,” she says and Isak feels like all of the breath has been knocked out of his body again. 

“What? No. I–I no. That’s not,” he can feel his breathing getting uneven again. He hadn’t realized how on edge he’d been since he’d walked home. He hadn’t even noticed how much more his skin was crawling. How could he have let himself get so– 

“Isak? Isak!” Vilde says sharply. 

“No. No. Vilde. I didn’t mean. I’m fine.”

“Isak! I’m not mad. Isak!”

“I’ll call you back in a few,” he says and hangs up. He only just manages to stumble to the bathroom and lock the door. Turning the shower handle proves more difficult but it’s either have the shower on while panicking or have his parents hear him. As the minutes drag by he can feel his fingers tingling and his awareness of the world returning. How could he have been that stupid to let himself get so worked up? He should have noticed. Especially after the morning’s attack. He’s exhausted from the earlier attack already. 

He’s had multiple panic attacks in a day before, but he always forgets how draining it is. He feels like he could sleep for a week curled up on the tiled floor beneath the sink. He can’t gather the energy to turn the shower off. His phone buzzes, the vibrations carrying through the small bathroom. 

“Isak?” Vilde asks as soon as he picks up. 

“Hey,” he says raspily. 

“Are you ok?” She asks, concern still coloring her voice. He rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. The tiles are cold and uncomfortable and he knows he should go back to his bedroom but he feels completely sapped of energy.

“Peachy,” he replies. She hums slightly, obviously not believing him. 

“What’s that noise?” She asks. What noise? Oh.

“The shower?” He asks her. 

“Yeah. I think,” she says. 

“Ummm…” he starts. He’s not really sure how to, though, so he just trails off. 

“Isak...I can try my best to support you but I can’t do it alone. Do you understand?” No. He doesn’t. I mean, he understands she’s just one person - she can’t be expected to fix his problems or his shitty parents - but there’s nothing stopping her from just being there. It’s not like he needs her all the time.

“Yeah...I get that. I just…”

“I need you to talk to Jonas,” she says. “Please just...let him know something is happening.”

“Fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let us know what you think in the comments or on Tumblr! :)
> 
> Follow [poeandbeaux on tumblr ](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com) for more information!  
> Send us prompts [HERE](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com/ask)  
> [Chloe’s tumblr](http://chloebeaux.tumblr.com)!  
> [Priscilla’s tumblr ](http://boxesofflowers.tumblr.com)!  
> 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like it!!! :)

“I don’t think I should be alone,” Isak says after a few moments of silence. 

“I don’t think you should be either,” Jonas agrees. For a second Isak feels like he’s flying before… “But Eva really wants this to be a trip for us. For a couple.” 

“What am I supposed to do?” Isak says quietly. It’s an entire week. Without Jonas as his safety net...what if he gets kicked out again? He doesn’t want to spend his time in the McDonald’s trying not to buy anything. 

“I don’t know man. You could see if there are any parties? I bet there are some good ones. What about Elias? He might hang out with you? Or you could ask your other friends?” Jonas suggests. Jonas: as oblivious as he is popular. I have no other friends, Isak wants to say. That’s not entirely true but it’s not like Vilde can have him over for eight nights if everything falls apart. “I can ask Eva. If that'll make you feel better.”

“Yeah, that would be great.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Jonas warns. He spears something else on his fork, taking a big mouthful. They’re sitting on a bench by Jonas’s favorite kebab place, each with their own takeout boxes.

“I just...I can’t be alone,” Isak says, allowing some of his ever-present fear to seep into his words. Jonas sets down his fork.

“I know, Isak.”

“They’re fighting more,” Isak says quietly. He knows that this is manipulative (but he can’t quite bring himself to care). He’s told Jonas only the bare minimum of his home life. Just enough so that Jonas doesn’t question why he wants to spend as many nights as possible camped out on the floor of Jonas’ room. He’d said that his parents were in the process of separating, or at least close to it from the volume of their shouting. He’d said it was too loud or him to sleep or do work. He’d said all these things. They were true, for the most part. Isak was pretty sure that his parents were going to get divorced or at least wouldn’t be living in the same house by the time he graduated high school. It was very loud in his house. That was also true. But the yelling that kept him from working or sleeping was usually directed at him or directed at the things that only his mother could communicate with. 

He also hasn't told Jonas about...any of the really bad stuff. Not that there's a lot of that, but he's afraid his father might get arrested. Even though he might hate living with him, he needs their family to stay together. It's the only thing keeping his mom even a little bit sane. Also, he can't say he's not to blame for some of the things that’ve happened. He should know better than to argue with his dad when he's drunk. And honestly most of the time his dad is right about him. He is disrespectful. He is irresponsible.

Jonas doesn't need to know any of that.

“Yeah?” He asks, his voice immediately softening.

“I’m just...I need to get away.”

“You think that would help?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I...I’ll make sure that Eva considers it. Maybe you should...tell her? She’d probably understand.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Isak says quickly. The more people who know something, the more people who ask questions that he can’t really answer. 

“I’ll make a really good argument, then,” Jonas says. 

“Thanks,” he says sincerely. Even though he might be well...using Jonas it doesn’t mean he’s not grateful or that it isn’t necessary that he be out of his house.

“Do you...need to be out after school?” Jonas asks. Isak nods. 

“I think that would be best,” he says, starting to gather up his garbage. They have to start heading back soon. Jonas always forgets to keep an eye on the time but Isak is compulsive about it. He can’t miss enough school that someone needs to talk to his parents. 

“I can ask Elias if you can come hang out today?” Jonas suggests.

“Yeah. That sounds nice,” Isak says. To his surprise, it actually does. Maybe some weed is what he needs before facing his dad again? At least he’ll be with Jonas. 

It isn’t nice. The walk over is nice because Jonas shuts up about ‘Eva this and Eva that’ for a full ten minutes on the way to the bus. They talk about what they want to watch on Netflix. They’ve both started Narcos. Jonas doesn’t even make fun of Isak for wanting to watch Moonrise Kingdom. He only says, “Wes Anderson? Cool.”

Elias’ house is a different story. He's best friends with Ingrid's brother apparently, which seems like a recipe for disaster if Jonas is involved, but whatever. It's not what Isak expected. He was envisioning just the three of them smoking a blunt, maybe taking hits from a bong, but there are at least 10 people. Maybe more. And more piling in by the minute. It's sort of dark and it reeks of weed and the music is too loud, but Isak wants to be here. That’s what he’s telling himself. He stands by the kitchen counter, sipping some cheap beer. He's got his eyes on Jonas from across the party. He's so focused he doesn't see the guy next to him until their hands brush each others. Isak flinches reflexively.

“Oh, sorry,” the guy says, and Isak is about to give a snappy reply when he sees the guy’s face. Fuck. He's so pretty. Can guys be pretty? His hair is falling in his eyes. The guy smiles softly, and Isak almost melts though he’s not sure why. He's a lot taller than Isak, which is strange because usually, Isak is taller than anyone else.

“No problem,” he finally manages to get out, and the guy gives a quick nod. Isak expects him to walk off, but he doesn't. Isak stares down at his cup for a while, but the guy doesn’t leave. Not that Isak wants him to, it’s just...odd. He finally looks up. “So are you -”

“Isak! Come over here!” Jonas shouts and this is maybe the first time he's been disappointed to hear Jonas say his name. The words die on his lips, and he curses under his breath.

The look on Isak's face must give away that it's him Jonas is calling, because...blonde Elvis...raises his eyebrows as if to ask if he’s leaving or not. Isak sighs, and Jonas waves.

The guy tilts his chin toward the doorway, giving him a soft smile, and Isak feels...special. Like he and this guy are sharing a secret. Or an inside joke. Isak takes a deep breath and pushes himself upright from the counter, he’s halfway to the door when the...tall guy? Blonde guy? Pretty guy? Isak’s not sure what to call him, speaks.

“Isak,” he says like he's testing how the word feels in his mouth. “Maybe I’ll see you around?” He asks, his eyes sparkling with something that Isak doesn't recognize but gives him butterflies.

“Maybe you will,” Isak replies, giving what he hopes is a coy smile before going to join Jonas on the couch.

For the rest of the evening, he can't seem to get this guy out of his head. Their eyes meet a few times through the hazy room, but only for split seconds.

In between those seconds are Elias and Jonas. Elias is...not the sort of person he would have thought Jonas would be friends with. He’s loud and rude and borderline sexist - maybe racist too - and he loves to remind Isak how “gay” he is. It’s not even hurtful anymore, it’s just aggravating. 

“...so she starts unzipping my fly and I put a hand on her head like this -” he demonstrates on Isak, putting the heel of his palm in-between his eyes, “And I push her off.” Again, he decides the story is in need of reenactment, so his palm knocks Isak’s head backward. “And she’s all ‘what kind of guy doesn’t want head? What the fuck?’ and it’s like, sorry bitch, if you’re gonna just go straight for my dick like that you’re clearly a slut. Have some dignity. And I don’t wanna fuck some whore.”

Jonas looks vaguely uncomfortable but then again, he’s so high Isak can’t really read his expression. Finally, he gives a short laugh, slugging his beer. 

“Yeah man,” he says. “Eva’s not like that. She’s great.”

“I bet she is, man. Word is she’s a virgin. Or, was a virgin,” Elias says, and Jonas immediately goes stone-faced.

“Don’t talk about my girl like that. That’s her business,” he says, his voice vaguely threatening, and Elias puts his hands up.

“Sorry man. You guys are good together.”

“I know. I know. Sometimes I think she doesn’t trust me though,” Jonas takes a drag off the blunt and passes it over to Elias.

“That's fuckin fair. You cheated on her best friend. With her. And you haven't told her you smoke,” he says, and blows smoke into Isaks face, laughing.

“No she hates weed,” Jonas says, still looking unamused.

“Yeah, so...she cant fuckin trust you. It’s that simple.”

Jonas is opening up more to Elias in 10 minutes than he has to Isak in the 10 weeks he’s been dating Eva. 

Isak sticks around for another 20 minutes. It’s just too much. Between Jonas ignoring him and Elias...being an asshole and the muddled feeling of his high, he can’t take it. 

On his way out he looks for the blonde guy, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Maybe if he’d been there, he would have stayed. 

He walks home slowly, dragging his feet. It’s starting to get dark and with that comes a slight chill. He hadn’t been wearing a coat heavy enough for the evening when he’d left the house in the morning and now he regrets it. It’s just another thing that’s adding to his...bad mood. 

Though to be fair, as far as bad moods go, this one is pretty mild. Sure, it's cold and his best friend ditched him, but it could be worse.

Vilde. She said he should call her if he felt bad. This isn’t quite bad for him but it’s probably not what anyone else would consider good. He calls. It rings out without her picking up. He tries again. Still nothing. He’s reached his house at this point. He goes around to the back. He’d left his window unlocked. 

_Sorry. Busy. Talk later._

No Vilde then. Eva? Maybe she’d answer. He hates to take advantage of her but she has as few friends as he does. 

Isak rings her and she answers like this isn’t strange. Like they’ve been friends for ages and this is what they do. He can tell she’s as lonely as he is. 

“Hei!” She says, and Isak smiles. She sounds genuinely happy to see him.

“Halla.”

They talk for a little while about Sara's fake eyelashes and Ingrid and etc, and Isak finds himself actually...enjoying the conversation. That is until Eva looks over her shoulder and smiles.

“Jonas is here,” she says, and he forces a smile.

“Alright. Ha Det.”

“Ha Det.”

It’s a fact about their friendship. Jonas will always come first. For the rest of the night, he tries to distract himself. He reads for a bit. He watches YouTube videos. Anything is better than being with his thoughts. Except...sometimes the blonde guy is there in them. 

Lying in bed at 1 AM he wonders what it would be like to be with that guy. To see that guy’s smile every day. To hear his voice and feel his hands on him. To kiss him. Isak's never kissed anyone. He's never been kissed.

His clothes probably smell good, Isak bets he uses fabric softener. He probably lives in Majorstuen with a big family and a backyard. He probably has a big double bed instead of a twin. He probably tastes like coffee.

He bets his hair is soft and he likes to sleep in. He bets his sheets are all white and clean and crisp and he would never let Isak down, ever. 

There's no real evidence for any of the speculation, but Isak falls asleep imagining they're eating breakfast in a kitchen with a big window and yellow curtains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let us know what you think in the comments or on Tumblr! :)
> 
> Follow [poeandbeaux on tumblr ](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com) for more information!  
> Send us prompts [HERE](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com/ask)  
> [Chloe’s tumblr](http://chloebeaux.tumblr.com)!  
> [Priscilla’s tumblr ](http://boxesofflowers.tumblr.com)!  
> 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is late because of a variety of reasons (most of them being that I (Chloe) was home from college for the weekend so I didn't have time to edit). There will be another chapter tonight! :)

He walks in on them together. Eva and Jonas. He tries to make it into a joke, but really it feels like there's a knife in his chest. He knew they slept together. He knew they kissed. He just didn't want to see it.

Every time he thinks he’s just about convinced himself that Jonas’ happiness means more to him than them being together (like that would ever happen), something happens that hurts so much that he can’t believe the lies he has told himself. He’d almost been able to convince himself that he was only jealous of the amount of time Jonas spent with Eva (and all the time he spent talking to and about her when he and Isak were supposed to be hanging out) and not that he was jealous of how he held her. But he is jealous. He’s jealous of their relationship. He has a crush. He has more than a crush. He is full out gay for his best friend. 

He might not actually be fully gay. He’s only 16. He might get a crush on a girl. At the moment, though, Jonas is the only person he can see. Though he’s also fully invested in the fantasy he’s created of the pretty guy from the party. So invested he’s had a dream where they...fucked.

He knows that’s probably what it would be if anything. Just fucking, not...dating or “making love” (whatever that means) or any of that. Though in his fantasy, they’re in love. Actually, really in love. Of course, it’s all made up. No one’s going to make him his favorite food for dinner and surprise him on his birthday and wake him up with a kiss on his forehead. That’s not real. That’s not...possible. Not for Isak.

He busies himself with getting his stuff off the couch - that’s where he slept last night. Better than the floor, but not great. He can’t complain though. He’s here. 

He starts on breakfast, grabbing some of the groceries they bought the day before. Eggs, flour, milk… He heats up a frying pan and is starting on the pancake batter when Jonas walks in, rubbing his eyes. 

“Hey, man,” he says, his voice still gravely from sleep. Isak hopes it doesn’t show on his face how attractive he thinks that is.

“Hey. Sorry about that,” he says, and Jonas shrugs.

“No worries, it’s chill.”

“I just wanted to know if pancakes would work for breakfast. I just started on them so…” Jonas perks up.

“Oh yeah! Nice. Eva was just saying -”

“What was I saying?” She asks, walking into the kitchen. Jonas puts his arm around her waist, and Isak turns his focus back to the stovetop.

“You wanted breakfast,” Jonas says, and Eva laughs.

“Isak, are you making pancakes?” He turns back around. 

“Yeah. Why, do you not -” She cuts him off.

“No! I love pancakes. I’m just surprised. I didn’t...think you could cook,” she says, and Isak gestures to the coffee pot.

“I made coffee too if you want,” he says, flipping a pancake. Eva grabs a mug out of the cabinet.

“Isak has the appearance of someone who burns spaghetti,” Jonas says and Isak rolls his eyes. 

“Why exactly is that?” He asks, and Jonas shrugs. 

“Don’t know. It’s just the vibe I get,” he says, grabbing a plate and taking almost five pancakes. Eva shoves his shoulder.

“Don’t hog them all! I’m hungry too,” she says, teasing, and Jonas laughs in the way he does only for Eva. It makes Isak’s stomach twist.

Later, when they’re out sitting by the lake and Jonas leaves the two of them alone to answer a call - with fucking Elias, no less - Eva speaks up.

“What’s the deal with Jonas and Ingrid?” Uh, they’re broken up? Isak doesn’t know. He barely spends any time with Jonas anymore, Christ.

“Huh?” She sighs.

“You heard what I said.” He wants to roll his eyes but he doesn’t. He takes a deep breath.

“You’d have to ask Jonas.” She’s staring out over the lake, not meeting his gaze. “Why are you asking?”

“I saw a notification on his phone.” She pauses. “I know that you know something. Just tell me, I promise I won’t say anything to Jonas.” He doesn’t know anything, but some part of him - a part he doesn’t like - wants to feed Eva’s insecurity. “They text?”

“Maybe a little.” Before he can say anything else, Jonas is back.

Jonas plays another song and they walk back up to the cabin. Isak plays trivial pursuit with Jonas until Eva complains she's bored, then they watch a movie. Isak can almost feel how much he isn't wanted - feel it physically. 

The next day, Elias shows up. Of all fucking people. Eva must sense that Isak's just as irritated as her, and that's at least something they can bond over.

Apparently, the only reason Elias is actually here is weed. He brought the weed. The three of them walk out into the forest for “bro time” as Jonas calls it, but they just get completely stoned. Isak holds off at first - being high around Elias only makes things worse - but eventually just gives in. 

When they head back, Eva doesn’t seem to notice a difference. Or maybe she’s just not letting it on that she knows. Either way, Isak is uncomfortably high, stuck in a cabin with one of his least favorite people.

Elias has decided to tell another story. Something about sex in a public toilet.

“So this bitch keeps moaning, like, loud, and I’m covering her mouth because I don’t want to get kicked out, right? Like, I can’t be banned from every McDonalds, right? But she keeps making noise, just...insane. So -”

“Please, can we stop? That’s really enough,” Eva says, and Isak is silently grateful.

“Babe, he’s just telling a story,” Jonas says, and she glares at him.

“Well, not everyone wants to hear it.”

“Chill out, why are you so pissed?”

“I’m not pissed.”

“You are. You’re pissed,” Elias chimes in, and Eva huffs, closing her book, and stalking out the front door, slamming it behind her. “Fy faen. Is she always so bitchy like that?” Elias asks, and Jonas frowns.

“She’s not bitchy.” Elias raises his eyebrows.

“You’re telling me that wasn’t bitchy? Isak, you must be able to tell? What with being a fag?”

“That’s a little much,” Jonas cuts in. Finally, he’s standing up for him. It’s about time.

“Hva faen? I’m just kidding around,” Elias snaps back, and Jonas doesn’t seem convinced.

“Just take it down a notch. You’re messing with my high.”

“I can’t make a fucking joke?”

“Of course you can make a joke. Like, sure, Isak’s pretty gay but calling him a fag’s a little much, yeah? And Eva’s annoyed but she’s not a bitch,” Jonas says, his eyebrows furrowing.

“So sensitive. Christ,” Elias says, rolling his eyes.

“Fine. Say whatever you want. Fuck. Just not about Eva though, please. She’s mad enough you’re here,” Jonas sighs. Isak’s stomach twists slightly. Maybe this makes him one of the guys? But really it just feels like Jonas is leaving him to deal with Elias alone. 

“What? I’m not welcome but the twink is?”

“The only reason Isak’s here is because he doesn’t have any other friends.”

It’s true. That doesn’t mean it hurts any less. 

“I have other friends!” Isak argues even though it isn’t entirely true.

“No, you don’t,” Jonas says. 

“I can see why,” Elias adds. 

“What's that supposed to mean?” Isak asks after a second.

“Just that I can fucking tell you don't have any friends.”

“Chill, Elias. Really,” Jonas says, though not very forcefully.

Isak is wondering though if there actually is something that makes him seem that way, or if Elias is just being rude. Is it his clothes? The way he talks? 

Overall, Isak almost regrets coming. By the time he gets back home, he’s almost glad. Almost.

“Isak! Vennen min!” His mother hugs him tight as soon as he walks through the door. “Oh my goodness I’ve been so worried.” He slowly relaxes into her arms. There are tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. She hasn't hugged him, hasn't welcomed him home, in what feels like forever. He must be dreaming. They separate slowly.

“Hei, mamma,” he says softly, and she sighs.

“Did you see them? Outside? Were they following you?” She asks. Isak’s heart sinks.

“No one’s out there, mamma.”

“No, no, there’s…” she shakes her head frantically, “Trust me. It’s not safe out there for little boys like you.”

“I’m 16,” he says. She frowns, carefully brushing his hair with her fingers.

“No, no, that’s not right. You’re my little boy. So small still. Just home from barnhage. Who cut your hair?”

“No one’s outside. I promise,” he says. Her expression grows even tenser.

“That’s what they want you to think. You have to look. Really look. And you can hear them too. Whispering.”

“It’s...it’s not real, mamma. It’s just -” He starts. She cuts him off, raising her voice.

“What? It’s just what? In my head? You sound just like them. Just like everyone else.” Her expression changes slowly, and she shakes her head. “You’re not my son.” She looks over his shoulder. “I know what you’re doing!” She shouts. “I know he’s not my son!” This is all falling apart so fast, and Isak isn't sure how to keep to together.

He reaches out and touches her shoulder, but she slaps his hand away.

“Get away from me! Get out of my house! The devil in disguise. You thought you could fool me?” She shoves him hard in the chest and he stumbles backward.

“Mamma, I swear, it’s really me.”

“Get out!”

So, he does. She slams the door behind him. He stands there for a moment, feeling the chill against his exposed skin, listening to faint sound of footsteps from inside. 

He climbs through his unlocked window, wiping the tears harshly from his cheeks. When he gets inside, he can’t control the sobs any longer. He slides down the wall next to his bookcase and cries. He cries until he’s out of tears. 

When he’s finally finished, the room is pitch dark and the house is quiet. He’s exhausted. His head hurts. There’s a text on his phone.

_hey <3 how are you doing?_

It’s from Vilde. He chokes out a laugh, but when he goes to type a response he doesn’t know what to say. That his mom is having an episode? That he’s just finished sobbing? That he needs her? 

_would you mind coming over?_

There’s a long pause while she’s typing.

_sure. I’ll be there soon._

_come to the window._

When she shows up, he immediately realizes this won’t be as simple as he hoped. Her mascara is trailing down her cheeks and her hair is half fallen out of some style she had it in. She gives him a little smile once she’s seated on the carpet.

“What’s up?” She asks, her voice thick. It’s obvious she’s been crying.

“Are you ok?” He asks. She's obviously not ok, but if there's one thing he's earned over the years, it's that she has to have the option of being entirely alright (no matter how much of a lie that is) before she'll open up. 

“Just something with new friends. You know,” she says after a moment. 

“Yeah. New friends suck,” he agrees. 

“It’s just...I thought they’d talk to me again. It’s been a week,” Vilde says miserably. 

“You still have Chris, right?” Isak asks. He can’t imagine Chris ever leaving Vilde (if all Vilde has said about her is true).

“Yeah. But she doesn’t count. Not really,” she says shaking her head. Isak wishes that he hadn't taken Jonas for granted back when they were closer.

“I think she should. Your best friends are important. She sticking with you. That’s...really cool.”

“I guess," she says softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let us know what you think in the comments or on Tumblr! :)
> 
> Follow [poeandbeaux on tumblr ](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com) for more information!  
> Send us prompts [HERE](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com/ask)  
> [Chloe’s tumblr](http://chloebeaux.tumblr.com)!  
> [Priscilla’s tumblr ](http://boxesofflowers.tumblr.com)!  
> 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2nd update today! :)

Last night, Isak saw them. 

It was the first time in years, but he saw them. It was small, only for a few seconds then it was gone, but he was sure he’d seen it. Or, them. They’re shapes. Shadows. Monsters, he used to call them. 

He’d managed to convince himself he’d made it all up. Nightmares? Maybe. An overactive imagination. It made sense when he was little. Now? There wasn’t any excuse.

It’s all the stress lately. He’s sure that’s what caused it. It’s the only thing that’s different. That doesn’t help very much, does it? Knowing why? Maybe it helps him...understand or something? Feel more calm about it? Not really. 

He can’t handle this on top of everything else. The voices are one thing. He’s used to that part. Shapes, shadows, whatever, are another.

“Valtersen? Dr. Skrulle is ready for you.”

Isak sits in the plastic chair, his knee bouncing, his head aching. A woman with braids and a white coat walks into the room, tapping a pen on her clipboard.

“Isak?” She asks, and he nods. “Calm down with the tapping. I’m not scary.” He tries to keep still.

“Sorry,” he says quickly. It comes out a bit to sheepishly. He didn’t think he was actually that nervous, but maybe he is. 

“No, no, it’s alright. What’s the problem?” She sits down behind her desk, lacing her fingers together.

“I uh, think I might be going crazy.” She tilts her head, frowning.

“Crazy? How crazy?”

“I uh...I’ve been seeing things.” He can’t quite meet her gaze. He can hear her shifting in her desk chair. Is that bad? Could she tell from the moment he sat down? Is she judging him? He looks up to read her expression. It’s...concerned? He can’t really tell. 

“What types of things? Little stars?” She waves her fingers in the air. “Birds? Snakes? What?”

“Shadows,” he says quietly.

“Shadows? Most people see those I think,” she says. He gives half a surprised laugh.

“No, uh...they’re like people but they’re made of...smoke or shadows or...I don’t know. They’re not real,” he explains. “They’re not connected to anything with mass.”

She makes a face, leaning back in her chair. She’s quiet for a while, just staring at him, eyes narrowed.

“Hmmm...I imagine that’s not very fun,” she says. He nods. 

“I’ve also been...having more panic attacks than usual? And...hearing voices,” he volunteers. He normally wouldn’t be telling someone he barely knows anything like this...but she was listening to him. She cared. She was trying to help. That was more than his family had done for him ever. 

“You have enough panic attacks that you have a usual? To compare to?” She gestures with her hands. Her expression is more pinched. Concerned, Isak decides. Definitely concerned. 

“Yes? Is that bad? I’m sorry,” he finds himself apologizing. 

“...are you seeing anybody, Isak? A doctor?” She sits up straight again, leaning forward with her elbows on her desk.

“You?” He says and it comes out like a question. She gives him a closed-lipped smile.

“I don’t count for this sort of thing. I just,” she makes another gesture with her hands like she’s dropping coins into the air, “Place people where they need to go. I can’t cure cancer. I can’t be there to,” she makes a popping sound with her lips, “pluck the boys out of the girls before they ejaculate. But I have condoms. And I know how to dial 113.”

“Ok?” Isak says. He’s disappointed and it must show. She’s actually talking to him without yelling or judging or anything he’s come to expect from adults. She sighs.

“My point, Isak, is that I am not the last person you’ll see. And I’m barely a help with the problem at hand.” She turns in her chair and types something on her keyboard.

“But...I’m sure it’s not that bad?” He says after a few seconds. She turns back to him, raising her eyebrows.

“Let me ask you something, and be honest. Do you think that everyone else walks around with fear like you do?” Isak shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Do you think everyone else walks around and wonders if they might see things that don’t exist?”

“No,” he admits softly.

“Right. So, if you don’t like that, which it seems you don’t, then there are things that can help you. But like I said, I can only send you on your way. Is that something you would want?”

He bites his lip, looking down at his shoes.

“Yes.”

“Good. I’m glad Isak,” she says giving him another little smile.

“Do...when should I schedule an appointment? How?” He asks. He’s known for a while he’d have to get help. He might as well dive in immediately. 

She turns to her computer, tapping away for almost a minute straight before turning back to him. 

“Do you want me to contact your parents?”

“No! No, please don’t,” Isak says instantly. She puts her hands up.

“Ok, no problem. Just asking. No need to be so excited.”

“Sorry,” he says.

“No, it’s fine. It’s fine.” She scribbles something on a piece of paper, tapping something else into the computer. “Here is the address. Your appointment is Friday after your classes end.” He takes the piece of paper and feels the blood rush out of his face.

“Ulleval?”

“What’s wrong? Fear of the letter u?” She asks, leaning forward again, cocking her head.

“No, no, it’s just...a hospital.” His head is spinning. Hospitals...hospitals are for people who are sick. Like his mom.

“Well that’s where the child psychiatric hospital is located,” she says simply.

“I can’t...I can’t go there. It’s…” Isak takes a deep breath. He can feel himself getting too worked up.

“I don’t know what to tell you Isak. You can go or not, that’s your choice.” She doesn’t sound judgemental, just matter-of-fact.

“I...I should go, right?”

“It’s not really up to me. It can’t hurt to go. You’re not getting surgery. That is unless they find you have a brain tumor. But that seems unlikely. Have you been experiencing seizures? Vomiting?”

“No, none of that.”

“So then it should be just fine. Who knows? You might even get some help for your panic attacks while you’re at it!”

“Great…” He grabs his backpack from the floor, swinging it over his shoulder, his hands still shaky.

“Alright! Good! Is there anything else I can help with? Condom?”

When he walks out of the office, he feels almost...ok. Like there’s some hope. Like something could finally change and things could be better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let us know what you think in the comments or on Tumblr! :)
> 
> Follow [poeandbeaux on tumblr ](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com) for more information!  
> Send us prompts [HERE](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com/ask)  
> [Chloe’s tumblr](http://chloebeaux.tumblr.com)!  
> [Priscilla’s tumblr ](http://boxesofflowers.tumblr.com)!  
> 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone makes an appearance. :)

“So, I think we should start you on chlorpromazine. It's an older drug but it works well for cases like yours. Hallucination heavy. Also, I see here it's what your mother took. We like to stick with what's worked with those you're genetically similar to,” the doctor says, and Isak feels like he’s floating away. He’s sitting on a high bench covered in paper, his hands folded tightly in his lap, knuckles white. He’s just been through almost an hour of questions - does he drink? Does he experience fatigue? Has he ever had a concussion? Now it seems the doctor finally has an answer.

“What...what exactly does that mean? If it's older...wouldn't it be worse?” he mumbles, and the doctor shifts in his chair. “And...my mom...how do you know what she took?”

“Not necessarily. It just means you have what we call positive symptoms. You have some negative as well, but I'd say the most pressing are the positive.” More things Isak doesn’t understand that sound terrifying. “And her information is part of your family medical record. She was treated here…” He trails off, scrolling on his laptop, “Around four years ago.”

“Uh…”

“Positive means psychosis. You started having hallucinations. You started having racing thoughts. Negative is things that are taken away. You said you've been feeling apathetic?” The doctor asks, and Isak shifts his weight. The paper crinkles.

“Uh, I guess.”

“Your mother suffers from schizophrenia,” he says matter-of-factly, and Isak nods.

“Mmhm.”

“I'm thinking you may be experiencing that too. Though we can't be sure until you start therapy. But I’d venture there’s a good chance.”

“Therapy,” he repeats slowly. He knew this wouldn’t be a one-stop fix, but some part of him was holding onto the belief that maybe he wasn’t really sick. It was just...an anomaly. Somehow.

“Yes. 1 hour every week. Or we can always increase the frequency if that's what you'd prefer?”

“No, that's fine,” he says, shaking his head.

“Therapy is nothing to be nervous about. It's just...talking. it feels good to get things out of your head.”

“I'm not nervous,” he protests weakly, and the doctor nods, though he doesn’t look convinced. He glances down at the paperwork in front of him, sighing.

“You said you hear things?”

“Sometimes.”

“What kinds of things did you hear?” His pen hovers over the paper, ready to write whatever Isak comes out with.

“Voices,” he says shortly, and the doctor scribbles it down.

“What do they say?” He asks, still writing. Isak swallows around the lump in his throat.

“Bible verses, usually.” About hell, but he doesn’t mention that.

“Are they distressing?” 

“Yeah.” Obviously. 

“I only ask because some people may hear reassuring things. Positive messages. But not everyone.”

“Mmhm,” Isak hums. He can’t imagine it being reassuring. The doctor sets down his paperwork, turning back to the laptop. He seems so calm about all this. He does it so often that would make sense, but it’s still a little unnerving.

“Now, chlorpromazine has some side effects. We don't know if they'll present themselves, but I want you to call if you notice any changes.” Isak nods. Fuck. What kind of side effects?

“Right.”

“Have you had any issues with muscle control? Shaking, trembling, that sort of thing?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Ok, so we'll start a low dose of benztropine as well. That should help.” He writes something down. “Chances are we’ll switch you to something else eventually – it's a very delicate balance, finding what's right for each patient. I also didn't know your mother, so I'm only assuming she went through a similar trial and error process.”

“Ok.”

“Don't be nervous. If it doesn't work, we just try something else,” the doctor says, and Isak looks at his feet.

“I just don't want my parents to find out,” he says quietly. The doctor frowns slightly. Does he have to tell them?

“Well, you're 16?” The doctor asks. 

“Yes.”

“Then that should be fine, though I'd encourage you to tell them when you're ready. Emotional support is important. And I’m sure they care about you a lot, more than you can imagine,” he says and Isak feels some of the tension leave his body. 

The doctor tears a piece of paper from his notepad and two from his prescription pad. He hands them over, and Isak shuffles them in his fingers.

“There's your appointment for next week and your two prescriptions. Please, remember to call if anything changes. Any side effects.”

Isak walks out with the three scraps of paper in his pocket. He should go to Apotek 1 if he wants them by tomorrow. He should.

He ends up standing outside the pharmacy for an embarrassingly long amount of time, biting his lip, before deciding finally to go inside. 

The woman behind the counter doesn't seem at all fazed by the two medications, all she does is ask for his health care card and tells him to sit and wait while they get everything ready.

So, he sits and waits, biting at his lower lip. His dad is probably wondering where he is. How is he going to hide these? Under his mattress? He has a feeling his dad looks there. He came into his room one day and the mattress was slightly crooked, his comforter balled up. Maybe behind the books in his bookcase?

On the tram home, it feels like everyone is staring at his plastic bag. Everyone knows what's inside.

He immediately shoves the bag into the pocket of a coat hanging in the back of his closet when he gets home, figuring that it's a good place until he can find somewhere better.

The next morning he gets up early - much earlier than normal - and reads the little packets of information that came with the bottles. _Do not mix with alcohol. Do not operate heavy machinery. May cause dizziness, drowsiness, insomnia, weight gain, dry mouth…_ Well if any of that shit happens there’s no way he’s taking this the rest of his life. There are other drugs. Other medications. But, he takes his dose, marking down the time on a scrap of paper.

He got invited to a party tonight. He should go. Celebrate the occasion. First day semi-diagnosed and on meds. That means he can’t drink, but that’s ok. He doesn’t like beer anyway.

The party’s at some third year’s place - it’s a Russ thing, he’s guessing, but he doesn’t really care. All he actually cares about is being with Jonas. And...he’s also secretly hoping that guy will be there. The chances are slim to none, but he can dream.

The music is shitty and loud and it's almost completely unbearable without alcohol in his system. He’s following Jonas around like a puppy until finally after an hour of being ignored, he’s fed up. The music’s giving him a headache. He sits down on a couch in the corner of the living room, and someone sits down next to him only a few moments later. Isak doesn't bother looking at who it is - it's not Jonas, so who gives a shit?

Then, Isak catches a glimpse of his hand. His heart almost stops. He could be remembering wrong, but that looks like blonde tall pretty guy’s hand. He bites his lip, suddenly anxious. Hands pretty much all look the same though, don't they? He doesn’t look up at his face, just keeps his eyes trained on the hand.

“Hey,” the guy says, and it's confirmed. Isak’s heart feels like it’s beating double time now, and he can feel himself blushing.

“Hi,” Isak says, turning to look at him. The guy cocks his head slightly and he narrows his eyes. He’s prettier than Isak remembers if that’s even possible. He quirks a small smile. He really does have such nice lips. It’s so pathetic though, being obsessed with someone he barely knows.

“Do you remember me? Because I remember you,” he says, and Isak’s sure he must look like a lovesick mess - flushed and wide-eyed. He tries to sound nonchalant, looking back out into the sea of people. It’s just a mass of darkened shapes, occasionally illuminated by some stray light before becoming obscured again.

“Yeah, I remember you,” Isak says, taking a sip from his solo cup full of water. The guy smiles.

“Isak.” He says, emphasizing the I. He lets the word hang in the air. “Guess I saw you again after all,” he says softly. His eyes seem to look right through Isak.

“Yeah. I guess you did,” he replies, still trying to sound cool and collected. The guy laughs, and Isak swears he might die on the spot. Christ.

“I’m Even,” he says, and before Isak can say anything a girl is grabbing Even’s hand, pulling him up from the couch. He looks startled, but he grins, his attention no longer on Isak but on this girl. They kiss. When they break apart, she starts pulling him back through the crowd, and Even waves a quick goodbye before disappearing entirely. 

Ok. So. He has a girlfriend. But he seemed pretty...interested. In Isak. Maybe that’s just wishful thinking. Maybe that’s just how he talks to everyone. But he remembered his name. He remembered him. 

But he’s straight, obviously, so it doesn’t matter. Isak’s straight too. Or, he’s trying to be. This guy - Even - has been fucking that up lately (he can’t even bring himself to include Jonas). Though, if Isak really thinks about it, he just wants a friend. Someone supportive and reliable and unconditionally loving. A really really good friend. But then again, people don’t have wet dreams about their friends. They don’t fantasize about how their friend’s hands would feel on their ribs, on their collarbone. How Even’s thumbs would feel hooked into the hollows of his hips. Fy faen.

He needs to get his mind out of the gutter. He’s not...he wouldn’t act on that stuff. He’s...pretty sure he wouldn’t. He looks out into the sea of people and sees them dancing together. Even and the girl. He looks so happy. 

Isak’s not sure he’ll ever feel that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let us know what you think in the comments or on Tumblr! :)
> 
> Follow [poeandbeaux on tumblr ](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com) for more information!  
> Send us prompts [HERE](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com/ask)  
> [Chloe’s tumblr](http://chloebeaux.tumblr.com)!  
> [Priscilla’s tumblr ](http://boxesofflowers.tumblr.com)!  
> 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter... :)

The fights have been getting worse lately, and with them, his mom’s condition. He doesn’t know what to do, he only knows that the shouting makes it hard to sleep and he’s too afraid to ask to sleep at Jonas’s.

On top of his normally fucked sleeping habits, now he has to deal with all the fighting too, and it’s made his sleep extremely rare. The cold he’s been trying to ignore for almost two weeks won’t quite go away as a result, which makes everything worse. 

He remembers when he was little, when Mamma wasn’t so sick, she’d always notice when he didn’t feel well and she’d do all the things moms are supposed to do. Tea with lemon and socks warmed up in the dryer and singing him the songs her mom used to sing her. She had such a pretty voice. In his memory, her voice is the best sound he’s ever heard. “Bånet legges i vuggen ned somtid gråte, somtid le sove nå sove nå, I Jesu namn.” _the baby is put to sleep. Sometimes crying, sometimes laughing. Sleep now, sleep now. In Jesus’s name._

Now, there’s none of that. It’s not really her fault she’s not the same, but it still feels awful. Like nobody cares. And apparently...no one does. But he doesn’t like to think about that. Maybe Jesus. But that seems like a longshot considering how long it's been since he's prayed or been to church or even thought about anything vaguely religious. Plus, there's the whole situation of God hating gays. Not that Isak’s positive he's gay, but it doesn't seem like Jesus would be too forgiving on that front.

So long story short, his cold which started off as a mild inconvenience is now something a lot worse than he’s mentally equipped to handle at the moment. He’s had to cook for himself every night so far this week, and his midterms are coming up quick. Not to mention the anxiety he has that someone’s going to find out about his therapy and meds. He frankly doesn’t have time for an illness. It’s starting to seem though that it’s not in his control.

He wakes up with what feels like a fever, but he’s not quite sure. He does know though that if he doesn’t go to school he’s going to miss the midterm exam review in physics and his father will 100% get him into a screaming match. He’s dizzy and cold and hot and tired and in pain and he’s worried he’s going to throw up his meds but he has to do what he has to do.

He trudges through the newly fallen snow to the tram station, the cold air making his lungs feel tight and sore. He breaks into a coughing fit on the tram car and an old woman gives him a glare.

He can barely stay awake in class and gets sent to the school doctor’s office during statistics. They take his temperature and let him sleep for a half hour on one of the uncomfortable cots before they send him back to class with a few paracet. It isn’t until he takes the pills that he realizes he really hasn’t eaten or drank anything all day, and it’s almost 14. Probably not good, but he doesn't really have the time to worry about it.

When he gets home he doesn’t have the energy to do anything other than climb into bed and sleep. He strips down to his boxers and socks and cracks the window, not bothering to climb underneath the comforter before letting his aching body do what it's wanted since he woke up – sleep.

For once, he sleeps almost 6 hours without waking up. He opens his eyes to a dark bedroom and shouting coming from down the hall. His head is throbbing and his body's trembling with chills and all he wants is to go back to sleep but he knows that a) he probably won’t be able to (anxiety is already buzzing in his stomach, the first sign of his insomnia), and b) he needs to make some kind of progress on his homework. And eat dinner, if there’s time. Then again, his stomach is churning with nausea. 

He’s up until 2, pounding cans of red bull, trying to ignore the sounds of slamming doors and arguments. He’s blasting NWA in his headphones, even though it makes his head hurt.

He must fall asleep at some point because he wakes up around 7 to pounding on his door.

“Isak! Up! If you want breakfast you need to get out of bed!” His father’s voice. He moans softly, rubbing his eyes. He still feels feverish and his t-shirt is soaked with sweat. “Isak! Open this door!”

“Unnskyld, pappa,” he mumbles, swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress, stumbling to the door and clicking the lock. Immediately, the door opens. 

“What’s the issue? I don’t have time to be waking you up like this,” he says, and Isak nods. Terje narrows his eyes. “Are you ill? You’re pale.”

“No,” he says. His father feels his forehead roughly. “Why does it matter if I’m sick?”

“Because that means the school doctor is going to call and accuse me of neglecting my son when really, he’s just irresponsible. I don’t have time to talk to some failed nurse without a clue of what’s going on. And besides, you shouldn’t be ill in the first place. Weakness comes from within.”

“I was thinking I might, uh, stay home today,” he says quietly, bracing himself for the backlash.

“That’s out of the question. Education comes first. Take a paracet and I’ll give you money for lunch if you really feel so awful.”

Isak nods, the world swimming. He knees go weak. He grips the doorframe, trying to stay upright.

“Please, Isak, the charade isn’t necessary. You’re going to school.” He feels his forehead again, this time with the back of his hand. He sighs. “I’ll drive you so you don’t have to walk. Be ready to go in 10 minutes, I won’t be late to work.”

“Takk, pappa.” His father leaves, turning in to the kitchen. 

“10 minutes,” he calls, and Isak shuts the door.

Not long into his first class of the day, he gets sent to the nurse, who promptly sends him home early for a high fever. She asks if he has someone to pick him up, and he lies and says he does. He knows she won’t let him leave if he told her he’d be walking through the snow.

He falls asleep on the tram, so it’s an extra hour ride back to his stop. He hopes his mother is out with a friend or shopping or something so she won't see him like this. It'll stress her out.

He forces down some toast before stumbling to bed, falling asleep in an instant.

He wakes up to a horrible rolling in his stomach. He knows immediately he’s going to throw up, but his body takes an extra few seconds to get the message before he climbs out of bed, somehow ending up in the bathroom despite his shaky legs. He misses the toilet by inches. His throat burns, and he drops to his knees, the next wave landing safely in the toilet bowl. 

He throws up for what feels like forever, his muscles sore from heaving and his head spinning. He wants to get up - clean up the mess and go back to bed - but his body isn’t listening. He wants to cry, but all he can manage are dry sobs - god, this is fucking miserable. He needs to pull himself together. 

He hears the slam of a door, and a spike of panic shoots through his chest.

“Marianne!” His father screams, and Isak knows from that one word he’s drunk. His breath is coming in quick gasps, his anxiety went from 0 to 100 in seconds. “Isak! Where the fuck are you?!”

He’s torn. He doesn’t want his father to see this but he knows if he doesn’t answer things will be worse.

“I’m in the bathroom,” he calls weakly, his throat raw and sore. The stomping footsteps get closer and he can feel his father’s eyes on him. Boring into his skull. “I’m sorry, pappa,” he whispers, trying to slow his breathing.

“Fy faen! What is this mess?! What the fuck are you doing?!” He shouts, and Isak’s head pounds with his heartbeat.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I was going to clean it up, I -ah!” He grips Isak’s face with one hand, his fingernails digging in. “Please, pappa, I’m sorry.”

“What did I say about this?! What did I say?!” His breath smells like vodka and it makes Isak want to be sick all over again. He tries to meet his father’s gaze.

“Weakness…” Isak can’t seem to catch his breath. The world is coming in and out of focus. The hand leaves his face, and he’s just starting to relax when he’s slapped. Hard enough to feel the imprint burn on his cheek.

“Get up. Get out of my fucking sight.”

Isak nods vigorously, stumbling up and back to his bedroom, slamming and locking the door behind him. 

“Terje, what the hell are you doing?!” His mother screams, only slightly muffled by the walls, and Isak wants to cry. 

He crawls back into bed, shrugging off his stained t-shirt, and tries not to think about what just happened. He’s asleep in minutes.

He wakes up with an awful ache in his head and half-blurry vision. There’s soft knocking on his door, and he carefully unlocks it. His father is standing there, looking...not like himself. He looks almost...apologetic.

“Are you alright?” he asks, and Isak blinks lamely. “Isak?”

“I’m sick.”

“Did something happen between us last night?” Isak shakes his head. “Alright.” He still looks guilty. “Apologies if I said something harsh. You should stay in today, you look like death. I’ll leave you money to order food. Does that sound alright?” Isak nods. “Ok. Take responsibility for your health.” He hands him a water bottle, and with one last vaguely uneasy look, he leaves. 

In bed, trying to go back to sleep, he wonders what it would feel like to have someone like he used to. Someone to warm up his socks in the dryer and make tea with lemon and sing. He’ll lump that in with all his other Even fantasies. In some universe, it’s all true. They’ve got their yellow curtained kitchen and Isak’s lying in their crisp, white-sheeted bed and his aching head is resting on Even’s chest. 

And there’s no girlfriend. And no schizophrenia. And no secrets. It’s all perfect.

But this is the universe he’s stuck with. The one where he’s alone and sick and Even is...straight. And they’re not together. And they won’t ever be.

He falls asleep before he can spiral any lower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let us know what you think in the comments or on Tumblr! :)
> 
> Follow [The song Isak's mother sings. ](https://youtu.be/EDOHj_CXDp0)  
> Follow [poeandbeaux on tumblr ](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com) for more information!  
> Send us prompts [HERE](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com/ask)  
> [Chloe’s tumblr](http://chloebeaux.tumblr.com)!  
> [Priscilla’s tumblr ](http://boxesofflowers.tumblr.com)!  
> 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We wrote most of this in the last hour. Also we just started planting the seeds of a few new plot lines so be excited.

“Isak! Hey!” Jonas calls, and Isak spins around. It’s the day after the strange interaction with his father, and even though he doesn’t feel great, he’s worlds better for having rested. Though he’s pretty sure he’s still sick, he wants to go to class anyway. He can’t fall behind. Besides, he’s pretty sure he broke his fever sometime last night, and he was able to manage some toast this morning. So...good enough, right?

“Oh, hey. What’s going on?” Jonas catches up, slapping him on the shoulder.

“Nothing, just wondering what’s up. I haven’t heard from you.” Isak’s heart sings. 

“Yeah, I’ve been...busy. What’s up with you?” Isak asks. Jonas narrows his eyes.

“You don’t...you don’t look good. Are you–”

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine,” he says, shaking his head, and Jonas frowns.

“Is it your parents?” he asks, his voice careful, and Isak sighs.

“I don’t really…We don’t need to talk about it.”

“Well, why don’t you come over tonight? Mama’s making croquetas, it’ll be nice,” Jonas cuts in, and Isak shakes his head, even though that sounds amazing. He has homework and studying to do, not to mention he still feels like garbage. And that’s probably the only reason Jonas is inviting him in the first place - he can tell Isak feels like shit and it’s a pity invite.

“You don’t have to–”

“No, I want to. Mama’s been asking about you anyway. Wondering why you haven’t been coming around. I miss hanging with you.” Well, that solves that.

“Ok, I’ll come,” Isak says, a small smile spreading across his face. Jonas puts an arm around his shoulder and Isak swears he can feel goosebumps on the back of his neck.

“Alright. Trust me, you’ll feel better. Are you sure you’re not sick?”

“I might, uh...I might not be 100%, but I’ll be ok.”

“Spanish food is really good for the flu, it’s magic, I swear,” Jonas says, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

“Thanks, Jonas,” Isak says after a second. HIs heart is beating faster than he’d like. He’d like it if Jonas wasn’t as important to him. But he’s the most important. 

“For my best friend? Please. I’d do anything.”

Isak’s heart soars.

That night, Mrs. Vasquez fusses over him like a mom is supposed to and they eat croquetas and watch a movie, and for the first time in a long time, Isak feels...good. Not so much physically, but in every other way. He’s sitting next to Jonas in a warm house with a real family. He rests his head on Jonas’s shoulder, and everything feels...perfect. Just perfect.

When it’s time to sleep, Jonas doesn’t pull out the spare mattress. Isak swears he’s dreaming.

“I figured since you’re sick you could just sleep in bed with me?” He asks, and Isak almost melts. This has to be a dream.

“Not if it’s...weird, or anything,” he stutters, and Jonas shakes his head, seeming so nonchalant as if this is something they do all the time. As if it isn’t a fantasy Isak’s had. Falling asleep in Jonas’s bed. 

“Not weird for me. The bed’s big. We don’t need to spoon.”

The blankets are thick and warm and soft and smell like Jonas, and Isak’s not sure how this could get any better. 

“Isak?” He asks through the darkness and Isak thinks he can feel his heart start to beat faster.

“Yeah?” He asks softly. There’s a pause.

“Everything’s going to be ok. It’s all going to work out.” There’s another long pause. 

“Can I tell you something?” Isak asks without thinking. Oh, God.

“Sure,” Jonas says shifting so he can look at Isak’s face more directly.

“Uh...I'm afraid I'm becoming like my mom.” The words slip out before Isak can stop them. 

“Like her how?” he asks, narrowing his eyes, and Isak bites his lip.

“Like...crazy,” he says more softly like he doesn’t really want to say it. He doesn’t really.

“No, Isak. That's ridiculous,” Jonas says frowning.

“How is it ridiculous?” he offers weakly, and Jonas sighs.

“You’re not...you’re not insane. You’re just dealing with some stuff at home. It’ll pass. You’ll be ok.”

“But what if it doesn’t?” Isak asks softly. The word echoes in his head. _Insane._ Is that what his mom is? Insane? Isak’s called her that, hasn’t he? It makes a pit start to form in his stomach. Jonas takes a deep breath. 

“I’ll be here for you,” he says. 

“Really?” Isak asks. 

“Yes, really. But…” Jonas trails off. 

“But what?”

“You shouldn’t be stressing about things like that. Everything will work out.”

“Ok,” Isak says. It comes out more unsure than he’d have liked. 

“No. Really. Everything will be fine. We’re still best friends and we can get through anything. Together.” Together. That’s nice. It reminds Isak of the way things used to be when they were little. No girlfriends. Just kids with no worries about the future or love or loneliness. “I know we haven’t been hanging out as much, and I’m sorry for that, it’s just so complicated.” Isak nods, feeling a lump in his throat.

“It’s ok,” he whispers, and Jonas smiles.

“Alright, cool. Just know you’re still my best friend. No matter what,” he says and Isak nods. 

That night, falling asleep, he thinks things might finally change. Of course, it’s only a matter of time before he realizes he was wrong. 

They’ve arranged a time to go to McDonald’s the next day after school, but around 14 or so Jonas sends him a text.

_hey hanging w elias, ill see you later?_ Isak rolls his eyes. He looks up from his phone to see none other than the famous third year “Penetrator” gang walking past. Well, not all of them, just William (or is it Wilhelm?), Christoffer (the guy in his English class), and a few others. 

He catches Chris’s eye, and the older boy smirks and gives him a wink before turning his attention back to his group. Isak feels his cheeks burning. Did anyone see that? Why...why would he do that? Is he gay? Does he think Isak’s gay?

On the tram home, Isak gets a notification. Instagram. Hmm. Direct Message. It’s from Chris. 

_halla ;)_

_hva?_ he types back quickly, and Chris responds just as fast.

_i’ve seen you around, just wanted to say hello_

_do you think i’m gay?_ Isak asks self consciously. 

_well you’re certainly not fucking straight the way you look at me, sweetheart._ Chris replies immediately. Isak scoffs, raising his eyebrows. His fingers hover over the keyboard.

_and you’re gay?_

_im whatever. Labels are bullshit. I like pretty people. I like to have fun. You look like you’d be a pretty fun time ;) _Isak has to laugh. Chris is an asshole, and sure Isak thinks he’s hot, but would he really be with someone like that? Well, they wouldn’t really be together. They’d fuck a few times then go their separate ways. That’d probably be for the best honestly, considering all the emotional attachments Isak's nursing at the moment.__

__Should his first time be with someone like that though?_ _

___we’ll see, christoffer_ He finally types, and gets an immediate reply._ _

___lmk ;)_ _ _

__He uses that emoji pretty liberally, doesn’t he? There’s another notification on his phone, and for a second he thinks it might be Jonas texting to apologize, but it’s just a reminder that his appointment at Ulleval is in a half hour. Fuck. He completely forgot._ _

__He barely makes it to the office in time, and by the time he’s sitting in the waiting room, his exhaustion hits him all at once. He keeps forgetting he’s still half dead._ _

__He only has to wait a few more minutes before the nurse calls his name and he’s ushered back into a beige and grey hallway, and from there into a slightly less beige room with a couch and a desk chair. The nurse shuts the door behind him, and there doesn’t seem to be anyone else there. He shifts awkwardly. Is he supposed to...do something?_ _

__He takes a seat on the couch, tapping his fingers against his thigh. He stares at the poster on the wall. It’s a mountain range with a sunset behind it. It looks like one of the ones they put in picture frames so they sell better._ _

__“Isak?” A woman asks, and he tears his attention back to reality. She looks pretty normal – the only thing that gives her away is a clipboard. Apart from that, she could be...anybody. “Hi, I’m Dr. Hansen. How about we get to know each other?”_ _

__They talk for a few minutes about confidentiality, and when Isak asks if she’s allowed to call the police she stops._ _

__“Why do you ask?” She doesn’t sound judgemental, which is...unusual. Not unpleasant, just...strange._ _

__“Just...hypothetically, if someone told you their parents...hit them, for example, would you have to tell the police?”_ _

__“Legally, I have an obligation to tell authorities if I think you or anyone else is in immediate danger, so...if I had concrete evidence that this person was being abused by their parents, then it would be my responsibility. But, that’s only if the abuse is ongoing. And the patient is a minor. Which you, Isak, are not.”_ _

__“I’m not?”_ _

__“No, not technically. But of course, if you ever wanted to press charges, you could. I just, legally, am not obligated. Unless you decided you wanted me to tell someone. In which case, I would,” she says._ _

__“Right. I mean, just to be clear, we’re not - I’m not talking about…”_ _

__“It’s ok. I understand.” They’re silent for a moment. “So, you’ve had a preliminary diagnosis of schizophrenia. What’s been going through your head?”_ _

__“A lot,” Isak admits._ _

__“That’s totally normal. Do you know really what that means?”_ _

__“Not really.”_ _

__“What’s your idea?”_ _

__“Uh...someone who has different people in their head. Someone who...goes crazy and shoots up a grocery store or something. Or...jumps off a bridge. I don’t know...” he trails off. Dr. Hansen frowns slightly. What does that mean? Is she...mad at him? Did he say the wrong thing?_ _

__“Well, I’ll tell you something right now, you don’t need to worry about any of that. It’s totally treatable, totally normal,” she says. She doesn’t...sound mad? Maybe worried? Like Skrulle..._ _

__“Not normal,” he says reflexively._ _

__“Why do you say that?”_ _

__“I’m not...normal. This isn’t normal. To see things. And hear things. And be stressed all the time.”_ _

__“It’s a condition. A totally normal and treatable condition that millions and millions of people all over the world suffer from. You’re not any less you than you were before,” she says calmly._ _

__“If it’s normal then why is everything...messed up at home. That’s because of my mom’s illness. If it’s normal then why is it so...not normal there?” He asks. He sounds less collected than he’d intended to._ _

__“What’s your idea of a normal family?”_ _

__“Uh...a mom who...makes you dinner and buys you ugly sweaters because she thinks you’ll look nice in them, and comes to all your football games and keeps all your art from barnhage. And a dad who...loves her, and loves you, and takes you fishing and buys you one of those keychains with your name when you go on vacation...or at least makes a joke about naming you something easier to find when he can’t find one…”_ _

__“I’d say that’s pretty...above average. Not that it isn’t wonderful, but it’s definitely not the norm,” she says slowly._ _

__“So what is? A schizo mom and an alcoholic dad?” Isak says bitterly._ _

__“No, definitely not.”_ _

__“So what then?”_ _

__“Nobody has a perfect life. Even families like the one you’re talking about get into fights. They have disagreements._ _

__Not like mine Isak wants to say. He’s silent too long and the doctor begins speaking again._ _

__“Obviously not to the same degree as yours, that’s not what I want to say, but...there’s no perfectly ‘normal’ family out there. Everybody has something, and you have a lot more than you should, but that doesn’t mean you’re worth less.”_ _

__“That’s not what I mean. I just mean...I want that. I want that kind of life.”_ _

__“That’s a good goal. Do you think you’d be able to work things out with your family?” Dr. Hansen asks lightly._ _

__“No. Probably not,” he admits._ _

__“Maybe that’s the kind of parent you want to be?” She suggests hesitantly._ _

__“I’m not gonna ever be a dad.”_ _

__“Why not?”_ _

__“I’m gay,” he says. She gives him an expectant look. “I’m not gonna...marry a woman.”_ _

__“You could always adopt one day. Or choose a surrogate mother. Or...even if you’re not a parent, you could be that way toward someone. Love them the way you describe.”_ _

__“What if...they don’t love you back?”_ _

__“We all have many loves in our lives.”_ _

__“Yeah right.”_ _

__“I got dumped by my fiance. He just said he couldn’t do it a month before the wedding. Now I’m married to the love of my life.”_ _

__“Wow. How did...how did you cope?” Isak asks._ _

__“I was...broken for a long time. And then...I saw her. Though we’re not here to talk about me...I just knew.”_ _

__“Knew what?”_ _

__“This is really a discussion about you, but I’ll allow it this once. I knew I was going to be with her,” she says smiling. “ _That_ is not normal. Don’t follow that advice to a T, please.”_ _

__“So...one day I’ll just know?”_ _

__“Not necessarily. But maybe. Maybe. Either way, you’ll have someone one day who’s going to love you the way you want to be loved. And you’re going to love them too. Romantic or not.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let us know what you think in the comments or on Tumblr! :)
> 
> Follow [poeandbeaux on tumblr ](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com) for more information!  
> Send us prompts [HERE](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com/ask)  
> [Chloe’s tumblr](http://chloebeaux.tumblr.com)!  
> [Priscilla’s tumblr ](http://boxesofflowers.tumblr.com)!  
> 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter!!! :)

_hey can you come over?_ The keyboard is swimming. It’s taken almost 20 minutes of back and forth in his own head to work up the courage for this text. 

He waits. There’s no reply. He types again quickly.

_i don’t feel good_

Again, nothing. He starts to second guess himself.

_im sorry i probably sound annoying lol_

Finally, there’s a response.

_Hey! Sorry, i cant im with Eva._

Isak frowns, fingers hovering over the strangely pulsing letters.

_after?_

There’s another quick response.

_nah i don’t think its gonna work im sorry :P maybe later this week we can get kebab_

He can’t hold back the flood of tears. He’s not sure whether being sick is making him more sensitive or if he’s genuinely that upset, but either way, he feels absolutely awful. 

Apparently, the cold/stomach flu/bullshit he thought was over with decided to come back with a vengeance, this time so awful he was left with no choice than to just stay in bed. He slept through school and they’d called home to find out where he was. Of course, no one had picked up, but when his father got home and listened to the messages they got into a huge fight.

Which ended with Isak locked in his bedroom.

What happened to “anything for my best friend?”

_jonassd please.////.?_ It’s getting harder to type, his hands are shaking.

_are you high??_ Jonas replies immediately. _i said im sorry but i cant. idk what to tell you. Whats the issue???_

_im sick. Muy dad wonr let me out of my room_

_itll be ok. Drink some water + eat an orange, youll feel better._

Isak wants to throw his phone against the wall. He would if his joints didn’t hurt so much. Is Jonas not reading his texts? He’s locked in his room. Isak must deserve this. He kept this stuff a secret so well that when he needs help no one will come through for him. And it’s his fault he’s ill in the first place. Weakness comes from within. He shouldn’t be asking for help in the first place.

Maybe he should text Vilde. She would know what to do, right? Well, Isak knows what he needs. Water and something cold and Pepto Bismol and cough syrup and something with calories that won't make him vomit. God, he’s so fucking dizzy.

He brings the phone to his ear. It rings a few times before a voice answers. Weird, he doesn’t actually remember calling anybody.

“Isak?” A voice asks, and he frowns.

“Who is this?”

“Vilde. You called me. What’s going on?” She asks, and he closes his eyes. He’s so fucking tired.

“Oh...Vilde. I...don’t feel good,” he mumbles, hoping she’ll get the message. Really, he’s just hoping she won’t be busy. He needs someone. 

“What do you mean? Is it...what we talked about before?” What did they talk about? Isak can’t remember.

“No. Not...not that. It’s uh...fever. I’m sick. But my dad...he locked the door and now I, uh…”

“Ok, no problem. You want me to come in the window? Probably, right?”

“Mm,” he murmurs. Why is it so cold in here? God, he’s freezing.

“Ok. I’ll be there soon. How are you sick? Like...which parts?”

“Stomach hurts. And my body.” Is that everything? His head hurts too. 

“Ok. Don’t worry, I’m coming.”

Isak’s startled when he hears knocking on his window, and it takes him a minute to remember Vilde was coming. He has trouble getting out of bed, but he eventually makes it to the window. His hands shake and he starts to see spots. Vilde opens the window the rest of the way. She climbs inside. The rush of cold air against his exposed skin makes him shiver. He’s already in a heavy sweatshirt and sweatpants, though he might as well be wearing nothing with the way he’s trembling.

“Hey, how are you?” She asks, and he climbs back into bed, curling up under the comforter, trying to get some of the hard-won body heat from earlier back. “Sorry, that's a dumb question. I have things for you.” She takes off her backpack, sitting on the bed. Isak moans softly, and she turns to look at him. “Ooh, sorry. I forgot you're hurting.” 

“S’ok.” He’s only been sick like this a few times. So bad even his skin hurts. 

She pulls out something from her bag. A thermos. She hands it to him and he holds it to his chest, sighing when he feels the heat leeching out.

“Some tea, that's always good for being sick. And…” she rifles around, pulling out a paper bag. “A cup of soup. It's tomato and beans and...beef? I think? Maybe some spinach. It's good. Uh…” She pulls out something else. “Ok! Stomach stuff. The pink stuff. Some paracet, a water bottle...” She looks up from her bag, biting her lip. 

She rests her hand on his shoulder through the blanket. They sit there like that for a minute before he speaks.

“I'm so fucked up,” He whispers. She moves her hand back and forth gently.

“So are we all, right?”

“Not as much.” He’s getting dangerously close to spilling the truth. He knows he shouldn’t, but fevers always give him loose lips. 

“You’ll be ok. You just have the flu,” she says, giving him a little smile.

“It's not that.”

“So...stomach flu?” she offers. “I’m not the best with puke but I can handle it. This once.”

“No. It's...something else. I'm...I’ve been going to see a doctor. A therapist. And I've been taking medicine,” he says slowly. She takes a slow breath.

“Like...Tamiflu?” She says and Isak thinks it’s a joke. 

“No. For schizophrenia. And it's helping.” There’s a really long silence. Neither of them move. Finally, she breaks form.

“Let's just get you back to feeling koselig before we talk about that, yeah?” She says, her voice careful and quiet, and Isak nods. He’s so relieved like a weight’s been lifted off his back. She brushes her hand over his forehead and crinkles her nose. “Ew, you're so sweaty.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles, and she rolls her eyes.

“Just a comment. Sit up so you can eat this.” She’s unpacking the cup of soup. His stomach turns at the thought. 

“I don't think I should,” he says, even though he’s shifting into a seated position. 

“Why not?” 

“I might throw up.”

“So?”

“I don’t...want that. Sorry, I’m just…” He’s irritated. At this whole situation. Of course, he’s grateful Vilde’s here, but he’s still stuck on that rejection from Jonas. And this whole scenario. It’s all so aggravating. He’s not strong enough to take care of himself, even though he’s supposed to be. He’s not important enough for Jonas to care about. He’s not a good enough son. 

“Well, you have to eat something. Or you’ll just feel worse,” Vilde says, and he sighs, taking the small cup of soup. He stirs it absentmindedly. “How about we start with just...medicine? I don’t think it’s good to have a fever like this.” He nods, and she takes the soup, giving him a little smile. “Cool. Ok, here.” She hands him a few pills and he swallows them with a gulp of tea from the thermos. The taste is so familiar but so unexpected that it makes him teary-eyed. “What’s wrong?” She asks, and he chokes out a little laugh.

“It has lemon,” he says, even though he knows that won’t mean anything to her.

“Yeah, of course. That’s what you give to sick people. Lemon and ginger.”

He falls asleep on her shoulder only a few minutes later, and he hopes he never has to wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let us know what you think in the comments or on Tumblr! :)
> 
> Follow [poeandbeaux on tumblr ](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com) for more information!  
> Send us prompts [HERE](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com/ask)  
> [Chloe’s tumblr](http://chloebeaux.tumblr.com)!  
> [Priscilla’s tumblr ](http://boxesofflowers.tumblr.com)!  
> 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

Isak will go anywhere with Jonas. It’s become a sad fact. He wishes he had some sort of willpower to avoid it but that’s just not the case. If Jonas told him that they had to go rob a bank, he probably wouldn’t even ask why he’d just ask ‘which one’. So now he’s at a party. It’s not even one he really knows people at because apparently smoking weed occasionally suddenly makes you cool and Jonas smokes weed more than occasionally so now he’s cool and Isak is just...there. Jonas walks through the house like he owns it. He stops to say hello and catch up with people that Isak has never seen before. Isak trails after him like a lost child. He’s not really sure where he’s going or why he even agreed to come to this stupid party now that he’s actually here. At least he’s no longer dying of the plague - a weekend with Vilde put an end to that.

Jonas eventually leads them to the makeshift bar set up on the kitchen table. 

“What do you feel like?” He asks. Isak shrugs. 

“Ummm...I’m not really feeling like drinking right now,” he says. 

“Water?” Jonas asks immediately and Isak feels relieved. He isn’t sure why he’s surprised. Jonas is incredibly understanding and doesn’t push him much. It weird to think that they’ve drifted enough that Isak was worried that Jonas wouldn’t accept that he wasn’t drinking. ‘

“Yeah. That sounds chill,” he says. 

Shortly after Jonas pours him his drink he’s gone, probably to see Elias, and Isak’s alone. Great. Why he thought this party would be any different is beyond him, but it’s pretty clear that nothing’s going to change. 

He’s leaning against the wall when someone comes and stands next to him. He’s praying it’s Even, but the moment the guy talks, he’s disappointed.

“Hey,” he whispers, and it takes Isak a moment to recognize the voice as Chris’s. He turns to look at him. The older boy smiles his signature, charming smile, and Isak smirks back.

“Hey yourself,” he whispers back, and Chris laughs, licking his lips. 

“What’s a cute boy like you doing at a party like this?” He asks, and Isak rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his drink. He takes a deep breath, looking back out into the party. “Playing hard to get?”

“Who says I’m playing? Maybe I’m just hard to get,” he shoots back, and Chris smirks. 

“You wanna make out?” He asks, and Isak is taken aback by the directness of it. He half laughs, taking another sip of his drink.

“Aren’t you dating someone?” he asks teasingly, and Chris raises his eyebrows.

“And aren’t you ‘straight’?” he shoots back.

Less than 5 minutes later, they’re in one of the abandoned bedrooms, Chris on top of him. They’re making out. Even though Isak’s never kissed anyone he can tell Chris is really good at this. Really good. He can feel himself...getting excited. What was at first mostly one-sided becomes halfway Isak’s, and he knows from porn that he should do something besides just lying there underneath him. So, he starts to grind his hips against Chris’s, tries to bite his lip in between kisses.

Chris seems to like that a lot. They kiss for a little longer before he starts moving down to Isak’s throat, and Isak can feel him leaving a hickey by his jaw, then one by his collarbone. His hands are snaking under Isak’s shirt when his phone starts to ring, and he pulls away with a groan and a roll of his eyes, sitting with his knees still straddling Isak’s hips. 

“Halla?” he asks, raising his eyebrows at Isak. “Uh...ja, why?” he rolls his eyes again, tipping his head backward, and groans. “Jesus, relax. Fuck, chill out. I’ll be right there. Give me a goddamn minute, alright? Jesus. Alright. Bye.” He hangs up, slipping the phone back into his pocket. “I gotta go, my friends are fucking idiots,” he says and leans down to give him another kiss, his hand squeezing his thigh firmly before pulling back. It makes Isak gasp and Chris smirks. He gets off the bed, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

“So…” Isak says, finally able to find words. 

“This was fun. We should do this again sometime. When we won’t be interrupted,” he says, and Isak sits up on the edge of the bed. Chris licks his lips and kisses the tender spot by his jaw where Isak can feel a mark starting to form. “Don’t cover it up, ok?” Isak nods, half dazed, and Chris winks. “Cool.” 

Just as he’s about to leave Isak speaks up.

“Do I get a sweater?” He asks, and Chris smiles. Isak’s seen the girls around Nissen with the sweatshirts. On the front, Penetrators 2016, on the back the name of the guy they hooked with highlighted in red. He’s not serious, of course, it’s a disgusting thing to do, to begin with, and it’s not like Isak would even accept one if Chris offered, but he figures it’s something witty to say.

“We’ll see,” Chris says and he laughs before closing the door behind him.

Isak flops backward onto the rumpled sheets, letting out a heavy breath. He did something without overthinking it terribly. He did it and it was fun. He’s still living his life.

His first kiss. Well, kisses. It sort of helped that it wasn't supposed to be romantic or anything. If it was he'd probably have been disappointed, but for just fun? It was great. 

Though he knows it doesn't mean anything to Chris, some part of him still feels good that it's him that Chris chose. Out of everyone. Chris can have anybody he wants - especially first years - but he chose Isak.

Not that he's the only one. He knows he's not.

He has therapy the next day. It’s his third session now, and he’s gotten more used to the whole format. He’s learned that whatever he says he’s going to have to explain, and once he explains it chances are he’s going to realize it’s ridiculous. 

Since the first day, Dr. Hansen hasn’t gotten at all into her personal life, which makes him feel...strange. He knows that she shouldn’t - it isn’t professional, but...it feels detached. Like this isn’t a real conversation or that she isn’t a real person.

He finds himself apologizing for talking too much. He’s not used to talking this much. She always just shakes her head and smiles and tells him it’s ok and for the moment he feels better. Things always seem so manageable and predictable and safe in that room with her. He can unpack everything and it all feels so small and controllable. But once he leaves, it’s like everything changes. Things get too big and loud and confusing and he’s struggling to hold on until the next time he can talk to her.

Overall though, she’s helped. He’s learned how to calm himself down, how to distract himself. He hasn’t had any hallucinations since starting his meds, and while he can’t exactly pin that on her, it’s proof that something’s working. He hasn’t really had any bad side effects either, but chances are they’ll show up eventually.

The hours always go by so quickly, and he finds himself upset when he sees the clock hit 16:00. 

As she’s marking things down on her clipboard and he’s grabbing his coat, he pauses.

“Uh, doctor?” She looks up.

“Yes?”

“Uh, do you think we could meet more often?” She sets down her pen.

“Of course, if that’s what you want.”

“Yeah, it is,” he says. She gives him a smile.

“Alright, how about the same time on Tuesdays?” He nods. “Ok! Sounds good. I’ll see you at 15 on Tuesday then.”

As he leaves, he feels a little guilty. She probably thinks he’s asking for more sessions because he thinks it’s helping. It is, but that’s not really the reason. It's more that he just likes having someone to talk to. Somewhere to go rather than home or the library. Something to do rather than sit alone and do homework.

He doesn’t know how, but Jonas’s convinced him to come to a Halloween party. He’d had a better than average time at the last party he’d been to, but regardless, he’s not a huge Halloween fan. Or a party fan. Or a going-parties-with-Jonas fan. At least he’s not since Jonas became so close with Elias. The nights always start out alright, but end with Isak alone in a corner, wondering why he isn’t studying or sleeping or doing something productive (except for last time but he’s pretty sure Chris was just being polite when he said they do that again). 

And that’s exactly how things go tonight. 

He shows up in an obnoxiously red beanie and a blue button up shirt he found at a second-hand store. It’s a half-assed effort at Steve Zissou from The Life Aquatic, a reference he’s pretty sure that people won’t get. Though maybe that’s a little self-righteous of him isn’t it? To assume no one’s going to understand his costume because it’s from a movie that isn’t on BuzzFeed's Top 10 Best Rom-Coms of the 2000s? 

About two hours in, he’s on a couch per usual, sipping flat Pepsi and watching people dance. There are a lot of cats and pirates and superheroes. Some vampires. He’s considering heading home when he sees someone through the crowd. A familiar someone. 

Even.

He looks down at his shoes, taking another sip of his drink (not water but the soda they were going to use as mixer) hoping Even will notice him sitting here. The chances are pretty slim, but he doesn’t want to seem desperate. Just when he thinks it isn’t going to happen, he feels the couch cushions sink.

“Hey,” Even says, and Isak looks up from his shoes, giving him a small smile. His hair is slicked up and back - it makes him look more like Elvis - and he’s wearing a leather jacket with a white t-shirt. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Oh, hi,” Isak says, trying to seem like he hasn’t been aware of Even’s presence for the last ten minutes.

“Happy Halloween,” he says and touches his red solo cup to Isak’s before taking a sip. He looks at Isak’s outfit carefully. “Looks like this is an adventure,” he says, raising his eyebrows, and Isak can’t hold in his smile.

“Yeah, it is.”

“The Life Aquatic. Not my favorite, but it’s good,” he says, and Isak rolls his eyes.

“Oh, I’m sure you love Royal Tenenbaums or something, hm? Mr...hipster,” he says, and Even smirks.

“My favorite is Moonrise Kingdom if you must know.”

“Childhood sweethearts. Magical realism. Pastel colors. Nihilism. Nice,” Isak says, and Even nods, a strand of hair coming out of his carefully coiffed style. 

“Everything a good Wes Anderson film needs.”

“Except acoustic french covers of David Bowie songs. And Owen Wilson,” Isak says and Even laughs. 

“You’re not going to guess who I am?” He asks, looking half offended and half amused.

“Why should I?” he teases and Even smirks. They just look at each other for a beat, until Even breaks eye contact.

“You’re a lot more confident as Steve Zissou, huh?” he asks, and Isak feels goosebumps on his arms.

“Maybe so. And excuse you. I am Intern Nico after he gets his hat.”

“Alright. Deep cut.”

“Let me see. You’re...someone American. Happy Days? No. Grease,” Isak says and Even grins. God, he has such a pretty smile.

“Absolutely right. Danny Zuko. T Bird,” He says, tapping the little white ‘T’ he’s drawn over the front pocket.

“And where’s your Sandy tonight?” Isak teases, and Even’s expression falters slightly. He looks out into the crowd.

“Uh…she’s around here somewhere. She really wanted to do the couples thing, you know. Girlfriends,” he says as if Isak should know what he’s talking about.

“Yeah. If you say so,” Isak says lightly. Even frowns.

“What? You’re telling me you don’t have a girlfriend?” Isak shrugs.

“Why is that such a surprise?”

“I don’t know, you just...strike me as someone that would have a girlfriend. Or...somebody.” Somebody. What does that mean?

“Yeah...well...you know. Really busy,” Isak says. Busy? He could have just said something to indicate Even’s on the right track with ‘somebody.’ Anything really. Maybe a subtle ‘I’M GAY EVEN’. Or a ‘girls aren’t my thing.’ Instead, he’s trapping himself into this fake-straight persona. “It’s tough when you’ve got as many girls into you as I do. You know, beating them off with a stick,” he says sarcastically. What the fuck is he doing? 

“I’m sure. I’ve been with Sonja for three years,” he says, and Isak feels something crack inside his chest. 

“That must be nice.” 

“Yeah. It’s good having someone who gets you. Sometimes you wonder what else is out there though, you know? I wouldn’t...like, cheat on her, obviously, but...I wonder. What things could be like. With someone different.” What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Isak wants to roll his eyes. Is this guy flirting with him or trying to say he’s straight? All of this is messing with the carefully crafted fantasy Isak’s created in his head.

“But you’re in love with her, obviously,” he says, trying not to sound overly dismissive.

“She’s my girlfriend,” he says as if that’s meant to answer the question. There’s an awkward silence, and Isak stares at his shoes.

“Even!” Someone calls, and the older boy frowns. A blonde girl is waving to him. She’s dressed as Sandy. 

“I gotta go,” he says, and Isak nods. Everyone’s got someone who’s more important than him. “But I’ll see you at the next party though?”

Before Isak can reply, Even’s sucked back into the crowd. Gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let us know what you think in the comments or on Tumblr! :)
> 
> Follow [poeandbeaux on tumblr ](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com) for more information!  
> Send us prompts [HERE](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com/ask)  
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> 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry this is late. My (Chloe) spring break is just starting so my parents wanted to spend some time with me. We hadn't prewritten enough on this chapter (just the several after it) for some reason so it threw off our schedule.
> 
> There will be another chapter tonight too!

“I fucked up badly,” Eva says, and Isak tears his attention away from Jonas’s skating. It's pretty cold and since Isak can't skate there's not much to do, but he'd rather be here with Jonas than at home alone. The two of them have been sitting here in more or less silence for a while.

“What? What did you do?” He asks and she sighs, looking out over the park. She bites her lip.

“Isak...If I tell you this, you have to promise not to say anything to Jonas,” she says, and Isak hesitates. What the fuck? 

“Okay, I promise,” he says after a beat, and she looks over at him.

“Seriously. You could ruin our relationship if you do.”

“I’m not going to tell anyone, okay? You can trust me. What did you do?” He asks. It all sounds really sketchy. Eva keeping secrets from her boyfriend? Her confiding in her boyfriend’s best friend? That’s like a teen drama. It’s like Degrassi. 

“You know how I thought there was something between Ingrid and Jonas?” She says slowly.

“Mmmm.”

“So I asked Ingrid if they had been together. And they had been.” Whoa. That doesn't seem like something Jonas would do. Though...he did cheat on his last girlfriend. Well, not really cheat, more like...lusted after her best friend then broke it off. But still. Jonas seems...really into Eva. In love with her, even. Why would he fuck that up?

“Seriously?”

“But there was a reason for it.It’s just that...Ingrid didn’t tell me that. So I got really pissed. And sad, so...so...I...I hooked up with Chris.” Wait. Vilde’s Chris? Does that mean Eva’s gay too? Is she coming out to him? Do they actually have something in common besides Jonas?

“You hooked up with Chris?! The girl who keeps eye fucking me?” Every time he's been around Vilde's Chris she's given him some serious 'fuck me’ vibes. He assumed she was straight. Either that or she really got off on eating frozen yogurt.

“No, no! Chris from the third year. Christoffer.” Somehow, that's even worse. Chris. His Chris. The Chris who left him with two hickeys and a newfound appreciation for dry humping. Fucking hell.

“So you hooked up with a third year?” he asks, trying to sound calm. It's pretty shitty thing for Eva to do, honestly, but at least she seems appropriately ashamed.

“Yes! Fuck! I’m the worst,” she bursts out. _Yeah, you are_ he wants to say, but he keeps his mouth shut. If he had Jonas he would never do anything that would jeopardize that. 

“I just...why? Like I get that Jonas has been distant but why not just talk to him?” He asks. Eva shakes her head. 

“I don’t know. I just. It seemed like a good idea? Or the only idea at the time,” she says helplessly. 

“Yeah…” Isak says. Chris definitely feels like the only person when you’re looking directly at him. He’s a little blinding in his charisma and looks. 

“What should I do?” She asks, and he sighs. He sort of knows that if she just tells Jonas, he’ll forgive her. He’ll be upset, sure, but he’ll forgive her. Though it’d probably be easier for everyone if Eva just kept it to herself. Chris won’t tell anyone, Isak knows that for sure. 

“No one saw?”

“No. We were in a bedroom, so…”

“You didn’t -” She cuts him off.

“Nei, nei. Only...hooking up. Not...sex or anything.” Isak nods. 

“Well then I’d say...just keep it to yourself. It didn’t mean anything, so...why tell him?” Why is Eva coming to him for advice? She has friends now, right? It seemed like every other time they talked it was either about her fears of Jonas cheating or their mutual dislike for Ingrid and Sara. But she’s coming to him about this. Trusting him. Maybe they are actually friends. In that case, maybe Isak could use her help occasionally. Vilde’s helpful and all but he feels bad placing so much pressure on her.

“Thank you,” she says softly, giving him a little smile, and he smiles back. This will bring them closer together. They have a secret. They’re really friends now. 

They talk a few times in the next few days. More than they had been at least but it’s still not a lot. They both have their own lives, though, and he’s not particularly surprised when nothing really changes between them. 

Isak’s become quite the party-goer since Halloween. He’s been to more in the last week than he’d been to in all of the time before that combined. He still hasn’t seen Even again. He knows that this is a little creepy. He doesn’t really know how else he’d find Even again though, so showing up in person will have to do. It’s not like he can google ‘Norway, Blonde Elvis, Danny, Films, Even,’ to find out who Even is. He’s already tried that with no results, so...

He’s sitting on a couch again, sipping flat Pepsi Max, watching people dance. Something tells him he won’t see Even, but he stays anyway. 

“Halla,” a voice says, and he looks up. It’s just Chris. He gives a little smile.

“Hei,” he replies. Chris sits down next to him. They’re quiet for a while. “So...do you have something to say?” He asks and Chris laughs.

“Wow, grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy,” he shoots back. 

“You seem grumpy.”

“I heard you hooked with Eva.” Chris purses his lips.

“Not really. We kissed for a minute. She was upset, it just happened. If it makes you feel better you’re the only person I’m keen to hook up with more than once.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that. I don’t care.”

“Christ. So I take it you don’t want to make out?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Isak, just tell me something, so I know you understand, yeah?” Chris says. He looks more serious than Isak has ever seen him. Isak nods. “You know we’re never gonna date, right? We’ll never be like...exclusive. That’s just not my thing,” he explains. 

“I know,” Isak says. He’s not stupid. Chris doesn’t really do relationships. He has a girlfriend but that’s more a...status thing. Isak can’t really do relationship. Or...he can’t do the kind of relationships he’d actually enjoy so what’s the point. 

“Alright, cool. Like I said, I’m still interested. So if you ever want to pick up where we left off…”

They’re making out again in under 5 minutes. This time they’re in a bathroom, and Isak swears he can hear his heartbeat echoing against the tile. 

Chris’s hands are under his shirt. On his ribs. On his chest. He’s giving him another hickey, this time on the underside of his jaw. The feeling draws a little whine from the back of his throat, and Chris laughs quietly. 

“God, you’re so fucking gorgeous,” he says, and Isak feels heat rise in his cheeks. He closes his eyes, letting the older boy do most of the work. He tries to imagine this is Even kissing him. He’d imagine Jonas but the thought feels...too dirty, almost. Imagining Even is hard too though because in Isak’s mind he’s so much gentler. Not that he doesn’t enjoy the way Chris does things - there’s something to be said for roughness and a firm hand tugging him close enough he can feel skin against his own - but it’s not...loving. 

In his head, Even loves him.

Before they can get too far, there’s a pounding on the door and a drunk-sounding girl shouting that she needs to pee. Chris pulls back, swearing quietly.

“Looks like we have to go,” he says, and Isak shakes his head, coming back down to earth.

“Uh, I can’t...I can’t leave the bathroom with you.” Chris furrows his eyebrows.

“Why not?”

“People will…” It must be clear he’s upset because Chris’s expression softens.

“You’re really not out?” He asks. Isak shakes his head. “No one knows? Not even uh...Jonas, is that his name? Your friend with the eyebrows?” Isak shakes his head again. “Faen. Ok,” he says rubbing a hand over his face. 

“You haven’t...told anyone, right?” Isak asks more shakily than he’d have liked. 

“Nei. Of course not,” Chris says looking slightly offended. 

“Ok,” he says, anxiety pounding hard in his chest.

“Relax. It’s alright. Your secret’s safe, I promise. For real,” he says, his voice surprisingly soft and genuine. His lays his hand on Isak’s cheek. He takes a deep breath, clearly thinking about what he needs to say next. “You won’t even tell your best friend though? Even William knows I like cock.”

“Jesus,” Isak says shaking his head slightly. He’s smiling slightly though so whatever Chris was trying to do must have worked.

“Nei, I’m serious.”

“I can’t tell Jonas. I can’t tell...anyone,” He says after a few moments. 

There’s more pounding on the door, but Chris doesn’t seem fazed.

“Are you sure you’re ok?” He asks and Isak nods. 

“I’m ok. I’ll...I’ll see you around,” he says and Chris leans in to give him another short kiss.

“By the end of second year, you’ll be out, I’m sure. You’ll see.”

Without another word, he leaves, and Isak hears him say something from the other side of the door.

“Toilets totally fucked up, gonna need to find somewhere else.”

Maybe...he’s not the fuckboy Isak thought he was?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let us know what you think in the comments or on Tumblr! :)
> 
> Follow [poeandbeaux on tumblr ](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com) for more information!  
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> [Chloe’s tumblr](http://chloebeaux.tumblr.com)!  
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> 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2nd chapter today! If you haven't read the last one go back now! :)

“What would you do if someone told you a big secret?” Isak asks. 

“You already know what I’d do, silly. I keep most of yours,” Vilde replies with a smile. They’re sitting in his kitchen, his head resting in her lap. She slept over the night before, just to make sure he was alright. He'd had a bit of an issue with his meds - they could make him a little sleepy but he fell asleep again on the tram and cut his hand trying to chop an onion so he figured he should call Vilde. She came over immediately, bandaged up his hand and they watched movies until they both fell asleep. Vilde may be a little insecure but she really does care.

“But what if...what if it wasn’t someone that you were that close to and they asked you to keep something bad from someone you were close to?” Isak asks. She frowns, running her fingers through his hair.

“Ummm...I don’t know. If one of the other girls told me to keep something from Chris...I don’t think I could.” 

“Not even if it was Eva?” Isak teases. He knows that Vilde likes Eva more than she feels like she should. Likes her like he likes Jonas, maybe. Vilde hasn't told him that of course, but Isak can tell.

“I would try harder if it was Eva,” Vilde admits. 

“It was Eva,” he says. 

“It was Eva, what?”

“Eva told me something and told me to keep it from Jonas.” There’s a long pause.

“Oh.”

“It would make him really unhappy.”

“What are you going to do?” Vilde asks. 

“I don’t know. Keep it, I guess. I don’t want him to hate me.”

“Why would he hate you?” 

“It’s...if I tell him….it will ruin his relationship.”

“But that...wouldn’t be your fault?” Vilde says slowly. “It’s what she did.”

“Yeah. But he doesn’t love me. Not like he loves Eva.” There’s another long pause.

“What did she do?”

“She...she hooked up with third-year Chris.”

“Oh,” Vilde seems to slump. “Ugh. God. It’s like...some people just don’t appreciate…” she sighs. “Whatever. I mean, I know she’s got some drama. With Ingrid and everyone. So...”

“Do you know what that’s about?”

“No. I mean...I wish I did, I-”

“She broke up Ingrid and Jonas. Or, Jonas broke up with Ingrid to be with Eva. That’s why Ingrid doesn’t like her.” Isak really shouldn’t be sharing this. Though to be fair if Vilde asked Ingrid she’d probably tell her anyway, so it’s not as if it’s some huge secret. It’s just...Eva would probably prefer if it stayed quiet.

“Really?! And then she goes and cheats on him like that?” Vilde huffs out a breath, shaking her head. “Some people would love to have a boyfriend. And they don’t,” she snaps.

“People like you?”

“Maybe! I mean, at the very least, someone who...loves you. Who doesn’t just want you for sex.” Vilde sighs. “There’s this guy, William, and it’s like...as soon as we had sex he just...I mean...”

“You had sex with him?”

“Yeah, I mean...I really liked him. And Sana said we should hook with older guys. But she's been...I don't know.” Vilde looks so lost it makes Isak want to punch whoever made her feel that way.

“This is your bus group?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe you shouldn't be with people who-” She shakes her head, cutting him off.

“No, they're nice. It's just sometimes I feel like they hate me. I just...I want them to like me, Isak. And no matter what I just feel like...they don't. Especially Sana. And no one seems to care but me.”

“Chris likes you,” he offers, and she sighs.

“She's better friends with Sana now anyway. It doesn't matter.”

“I'm sure that's not true. Just relax and take it easy, yeah?”

“Sana dressed up as me for Halloween.” Whoa.

“That's kind of…”

“Mean? Ja. It was. But I couldn't say anything. Everyone loves her.” She sighs. “She makes fun of me all the time!” She presses her lips together into a line. He can tell she’s on the verge of tears.

“Maybe you could just talk to Chris?” He suggests. 

“If I tell Chris or anyone else what’s going on they’ll just think I’m being Islamophobic and complaining. I just didn’t want her in the group at first because it was obvious she hated me and everyone else thought she was great. And they do. And besides, is it crazy to wonder why she’s there? It’s Russ. It’s about sex and drugs and alcohol and being a slut, not...praying. And I don’t mind it, Noora doesn’t drink either but I just...”

“Russ isn’t about that for everyone. Some people just like to hang. Plus, I don’t think any of them are taking it as seriously as you for now. Not that they should or shouldn’t, just that...it’s probably more about hanging out now than it is about actual Russ.”

“I was already kicked from one bus, and now all my friends think I’m some...idiot. Some slut who hooks up with guys she isn’t good enough for.” Isak’s heart is breaking listening to this.

“I’m sure they don’t think that,” he says gently, and she swipes a tear from her cheek.

“Sana said I don’t have any integrity.”

“Well fuck her if she says things like that. And it’s not true. You know that. You...have more integrity in your pinky than anyone else in their whole body.” Isak is absolutely livid. They don’t know her. She won’t let them know her the way he does, but regardless, they don’t fucking know her. They can’t treat her like a naive idiot without principles - she’s strong, dammit. She’s strong and brave and she tries so hard every day just to have some fraction of what everyone else just seems to have already. She just wants to be loved. That’s all she’s ever wanted. 

And people think they have the right to treat her like shit? No. 

“You don’t have to say that, Isak,” Vilde says shaking her head slightly. She sniffles.

“No, it’s true,” he insists. 

“It’s so stupid, Isak! It’s so fucking stupid! All of this Russ stuff.”

“It’s important to you,” he says. 

“Then I’m stupid,” she says more softly. 

“Caring about something doesn’t make you stupid,” Isak says slowly. Vilde sighs. 

“Can we just-” she starts. 

“No. Vilde. Listen. Caring about Russ doesn’t mean that people get to treat you badly.”

“Ok. Sure.”

“No one should be treating you badly.” 

“Yeah. Ok. Coming from you?” Vilde says and Isak winces slightly. She’s right. 

“Things are better. I’m doing better,” he says. It’s only half a lie. Things aren’t nearly as bad this week at home because he hasn’t really been home. “And besides, I can’t...choose my parents. I don’t choose them like I can choose friends.”

“It’s just...when it’s good, it’s so good, you know?” She says. He nods. He can remember good times. He just…

“Yeah,” he agrees instead of trying to explain it. “Just don’t let them...make you feel like you’re not great. Because you are.”

She wraps him in a tight hug, and he hugs her back.

“I love you, Isak,” she whispers. He feels warm. This is what it must be like to have a sister. 

The next day he shows up to his second therapy appointment of the week early. It’s become (surprisingly) one of the only times he doesn’t feel completely on edge. Just somewhat on edge. 

He unwraps the cheese sandwich he got from the cafeteria before he left school. It’s sort of cold, but he takes a bite anyway. He also managed to get a strawberry milk - the cafeteria doesn’t have it very often, and it’s more of an American thing anyway, but it’s his favorite. He had it once on a trip to America with his father when he was really little and ever since it’s been ingrained in his memory.

They’d gone to New York City – it was a lot bigger than Oslo and a lot louder and brighter. His father had to go on business and for whatever reason decided to bring Isak along. He didn’t really know any English but they stayed for about three days - one of which was just Isak sitting in a big lobby with a fish tank while his dad was in a meeting. 

His hair was still really long then, and people kept thinking he was a little girl. Not that Isak could really tell though. “Girl” and “gutt” sound sort of similar so he figured they meant the same thing.

His favorite part was when they went to Time Square and ate a hot dog from a street cart. His dad explained that it was a very American thing to do. The time with the strawberry milk was different, but that one wasn’t as nice because they’d ridden in a taxi for almost an hour to get to a museum with big dinosaur bones only for his dad to realize that Isak hadn’t eaten all day, so they had to go to the cafeteria. His dad complained the whole time how expensive it was. And how all the fish in America either tasted like “shit” or came in patties and sticks. 

New York City though is famous for having really big stage shows. His dad told him they couldn’t see one because it was “a waste of time for boys to see shows like that,” but every time they passed a poster for one they looked like magic. There was one called “42nd Street” that he liked in particular - it was a bunch of girls with smiling faces, all lined up. To this day he’s not sure what it’s about, he doesn’t want to know, to be honest. It’s almost nicer to have that memory.

The meeting with Dr.Hansen goes normally, and at the end, they talk about his side effects. She tells him it’s pretty normal, and when he feels sleepy to make sure he’s not doing anything dangerous. But that’s why, she explains, it says on the prescription bottle not to operate heavy machinery. He doesn’t do anything particularly dangerous (unless talking to his parents and climbing in and out of his window can be classed in the same category as driving a car). 

The next few days go by more smoothly than Isak had expected. He’s feeling better. His parents haven’t actually been at home (which should be more concerning but instead he’s just relieved). School has been easier and more bearable since he actually went to the doctor. Everything feels like it’s coming together. Sure, his life is objectively not great, but he’s no longer dealing with disembodied voices and shadow shapes. 

He’s been waiting for Vilde to show up at their usual coffee shop for a while. She’d texted him telling him she was running about 20 minutes late, so he’d went ahead and started working on some of his homework while sipping at his (extremely discounted) fancy tea drink. He’s most of the way through the chemistry word problems for the next day’s class when someone slides into the seat across from him. 

“Hi Vilde,” he says without looking up. “How was your-” he looks up and immediately stops. 

“So. Vilde was meeting with you,” Chris - girl Chris - says. She looks half serious and half skeptical.

“You’re not Vilde,” he states after a second. 

“Obviously,” she replies. 

“Ummm...why-”

“Sooo…” Chris cuts him off. She narrows her eyes.

“Yes?” Isak asks. He’s not really sure how this conversation’s going to go. He’s pretty sure she doesn’t know he’s gay because he’s also pretty sure she’s been hitting on him.

“You’re into Vilde?” She asks, raising her eyebrows. 

“Uh, I -”

“Nuh uh, no protests, please. The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” she says, staring him down. He bites his lip.

“Ummm...she’s cool?” Isak offers. It’s pretty as much as he’s given time to say. 

“You want to fuck her?” She asks suddenly, and he almost laughs.

“No,” he says a bit too quickly. Chris raises her eyebrows again.

“Oh, so she’s not good enough for you then, huh?” She challenges.

“No, it’s not that. I’m just...We’re only friends.”

“Right. Yeah. You want more though. You don’t think you should be just friends,” she says, still looking overly skeptical.

“No, that’s what I think,” he reassures.

“I know...I know the games you’re playing. Hot guys like you.”

“Uh, thank you?”

“You want her to think you’re fine with being friend zoned and then you’re going to turn around and tell her you want to hook up and she’s been leading you on,” Chris says. Isak’s mouth falls open slightly.

“No, honest. Do people actually do that?!” He asks appalled. 

“Sometimes. I assume,” she says, her self-assured persona breaking for just a moment.

“You don’t have to worry about it,” Isak says with a slight smile. Chris just frowns at him. 

“Listen to me, Isak. I love that girl. She’s a perfect angel and if you hurt her, I swear -” He cuts her off.

“I’m not going to -” Both their heads snap up from the conversation.

“Hei! Hva skjer?” It’s Vilde. She’s standing by the end of the table, a thick pink scarf up to her chin.

“Not much. Just talking to Isak,” Chris says, smiling.

“We’re just going to do some homework, right? Because we have that class together,” she says, giving him a meaningful look, and Isak nods. 

“Yeah. Do you have the notes for the very end of the class? I can’t find mine,” Isak says. Vilde doesn’t want anyone to know about their friendship. Not even her other best friend. That’s fine. Isak hasn’t been telling Jonas everything either. 

Maybe she’ll get more comfortable once she’s more solid with her other friends. 

Chris narrows her eyes.

“Ok. Cool. I’ll see you later, yeah?” Chris asks, and Vilde smiles.

“Yup!” She waves goodbye as Chris leaves and plops down in the seat across from Isak. She sighs, pushing her hair behind her ears. “Ok! Let’s get to work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let us know what you think in the comments or on Tumblr! :)
> 
> Follow [poeandbeaux on tumblr ](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com) for more information!  
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> 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worth the wait hopefully! :)

Lately, Isak's been thinking more about Even. It's so stupid, he’s straight, has a girlfriend even, but he still finds himself fantasizing about him. 

In one particular fantasy, he imagines telling him he's schizo. Even listens intently and nods and holds his hand and whispers that it's ok - that everything's ok - and that it doesn't change anything. Then he wipes his tears and kisses his cheek and they lie together on their big double bed and sleep on their nice white sheets. There’s a warm breeze and it’s Isak’s favorite temperature outside. 20 degrees. 

He shouldn't think like this. It's unhealthy. Setting expectations so high...it only leads to disappointment. Besides, he'll probably never see the guy again. Isak's never seen him at Nissen, so chances are he goes to school somewhere else.

Still, it makes him feel better when he gets upset. How fucked is that though? Having to create some person who doesn't exist just to kill your loneliness.

Speaking of loneliness, he's yet to get a reply from Eva or Jonas. They're probably together. Maybe he's with her right now. It’s still bothering him, how Jonas chooses her. Chooses her despite everything.

He thought for a moment that he and Eva might actually be friends, but she’s yet to reply to any of his texts from the past three days so that looks like it’s out the window. He’s keeping her stupid secret and she won’t even bother to reply?

That night is one of the rare ones where his family eats together. The food is take out, but they’re sitting at the table, each with a plate and utensils, and eating dinner together. 

His father is visibly pissed off. Isak isn’t sure why, though it’s probably something to do with work. None of them have spoken a word since they sat down, and his mother is on her third glass of wine. 

“Isak. How are your grades?” His father asks suddenly, and Isak looks up from his plate.

“Eh...bra,” he says. His father frowns.

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“I have all 5s and 6s,” he offers. His father doesn’t look convinced in the slightest.

“I just don’t think that’s possible. Not with your lackluster work ethic.”

“Well...it’s true,” he says, cutting a piece of chicken. 

“What about a girlfriend? Do you have one?” Isak shakes his head. “Mm. Marianne, are you going to contribute?”

“What?” His mother asks, seemingly snapped out of a trance.

“Please, make an effort.”

“It’s fine, Pappa,” Isak says, and his father frowns again.

“Don’t be defending her. She’s a terrible excuse for a mother to you. When’s the last time you ate dinner like this?” He asks. Isak’s quiet. “Exactly. It’s all on me. As usual.”

“I’m not in the mood for an argument about familial responsibility,” Isak says quietly. He really shouldn’t be stirring the pot like this.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His father asks, his voice rising. 

“It means you’re not exactly a model father either,” Isak replies tersely. There’s a long, tense silence.

“You want to repeat that?” he asks, his voice tight. Isak doesn’t think before replying.

“You heard me.”

“Get out.”

So, he does.

Now, he’s sitting in the 24 hour McDonalds, stirring a Mcflurry half-heartedly, trying not to look like he’s going to spend the whole night here. He checks his phone. He sent a text to Eva and Jonas both. 

_hi i need somewhere to stay tonight, can i come over?_

There aren’t any replies yet but it’s only been...an hour and 12 minutes. 

They...don’t care? He tries the thought out. What if Eva and Jonas just don’t care about him? What if that is his life now? Have they ever cared? Where could they possibly be? The answer is obviously together. Isak feels the jealousy rising in his chest. He’s no longer really sure if it’s jealousy because Jonas is with Eva or more about the stability of a relationship and the attention he gives her. Ever since Even (and Chris to a lesser extent) everything with Jonas has felt slightly muted. He would have done anything for that a few months ago but now it just feels bitter. 

Jonas must care about him at least somewhat. They’ve been friends since fifth grade. Eva, though...well. It would make sense if she didn’t actually like him. They’ve only been friends for a few months. She had only just started to trust him enough to share secrets with him. 

...the Secret. His stomach twists slightly at the thought. This was...he wasn’t like this. He didn’t think he was like this. But...he hadn’t thought Eva was like that either. And Jonas. He’d thought Jonas would always be beside him. Lots of things had changed. 

He pulls up Iben’s Instagram on his phone. Chris’s girlfriend. 

_i saw someone kissing your boyfriend. At the Halloween party last week._

It takes a few seconds for the little indication that Iben is typing to appear.

_what??? chris?_

He hesitates. Once he keeps going he can’t back out.

_yeah. He was making out with this first year named eva mohn._

_doesn’t she hang around with you?_ She sends back. It’s been a couple of minutes so Isak imagines she’s probably gone and looked at Eva’s profile. 

_yeah._

_ok thanks. I’ll deal with it._ She replies. Isak sets down his phone. He’s not sure if he managed to grab a charger cord or not. He takes a deep breath. He can do this. He’s been unable go home before. This isn’t new. The only really new thing is that he can’t crash at Jonas’ house. 

Isak’s phone is silent. Still no texts from Jonas. Another hour passes. Still nothing. People come in and out of the McDonald’s. He’s still there. He’d stopped enjoying his Mcflurry after about the second bite. There are footsteps next to him. They stop. He looks up. Penetrator Chris. 

“Hi Chris,” Isak says without energy. 

“Halla, pretty baby. What's up?”

“Nothing,” he says immediately. Chris raises an eyebrow and Isak sighs. “I just...I'm kind of in a bad mood.”

“Hvorfor?”

“Uh...I don't know,” he says and Chris again tilts his head. He’s silent for a second. 

“Ok,” he finally says. He slides into the chair across from Isak, putting down his own milkshake. 

“Ummm…” Isak says. He isn’t really used to people suddenly sitting down with him but apparently that’s the new normal. 

“What brings you to this fine establishment at...21:20?” Chris asks. Isak pauses for a second. He doesn’t really know what he can say that won’t be a red flag about his home life. 

“Ummm...Mcflurry craving?” It comes out like a question. Chris narrows his eyes. 

“Yeah...I can tell you’re really enjoying it,” Chris says looking pointedly at his melted, mostly full dessert. 

“Well...what about you?” Isak asks. 

“I saw my favorite first-year boy through the window on my way home and decided to check in on him because he looked like someone had just run over his puppy,” Chris responds. Isak sighs.”But now that I’m in the same room he looks worse than that.”

“Thanks,” he replies. 

“Seriously. Are you ok?” Chris asks. Isak shakes his head slightly.

“Why are you doing this?” Isak asks. “We’re not...anything. We just...met at some parties.” Chris takes a deep breath.

“I just...I know everyone thinks I’m a slut. I am a slut. I just...I’m also a part of a community. And so are you. I can’t just turn my back on you.”

“Really? This is all for...pride or something?” Isak asks. 

“No...not entirely. I mean. I had a really easy time and you’re...not having an easy time. I can at least ask if you need...me to walk you home or something?”

“Nope. Can’t go home,” Isak says reflexively. Chris is silent for a few seconds. 

“Ok...so...do you have somewhere else you can go?” He asks, his eyebrows crinkling in concern. 

“I texted Jonas...and Eva but neither one of them...they haven’t gotten back to me,” he says. His chest feels tight and he takes as deep a breath as he can. 

“How long ago-”

“Over two hours,” Isak says, cutting Chris off. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I’m just...going to stay here for a while,” he explains. He’s not sure why he’s doing this. Chris...shouldn’t know anything. He doesn’t care either. 

“I...you could sleep at mine?” Chris offers after a few seconds. 

“What?” 

“You could crash at my place until you can get in touch with one of your friends,” he says. 

“I’m not sleeping with you tonight,” Isak says flatly. “If that’s what you’re thinking.”

“No!” Chris exclaims a bit too loudly for the empty restaurant. “No. That’s not...you’re sad and I’m not…”

“Ok,” he says. He doesn’t have any better offers at the moment. Jonas and Eva are probably together. Ignoring him. Or maybe they’re laughing at him for getting kicked out again. 

“You sure?” Chris asks and Isak nods. 

“Yeah,” he says starting to grab his backpack. “Where to?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let us know what you think in the comments or on Tumblr! :)
> 
> Follow [poeandbeaux on tumblr ](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com) for more information!  
> Send us prompts [HERE](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com/ask)  
> [Chloe’s tumblr](http://chloebeaux.tumblr.com)!  
> [Priscilla’s tumblr ](http://boxesofflowers.tumblr.com)!  
> 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Delayed due to a full out fight over which season of America's Next Top Model is the best. Sorry. (But Cycle 21 is the winner. Will Jardell all the way. Sorry Poe).

Isak doesn’t open his eyes immediately when he wakes up. He isn’t entirely sure where he is but it’s quiet and smells nice. The bed is softer than his at home. It’s warm. He lies there for a second, just pretending that he exists outside of time. Pretending that he’s floating through an alternate dimension where he just needs to feel and not interact. It doesn’t last. After a few minutes, he just has to accept the fact that he’s at Chris’s apartment. He’s in Chris’ bed. They slept in the same bed but not _together_ and things have the potential of getting really weird really quickly. 

Isak pulls himself from the bed and looks around the room. It’s not what he was expecting. He isn’t really sure what he was expecting. Chris’ room is clean. Really clean. The walls are cool and gray with only a few pictures hanging from a photo string. There are grey, black, and white accents in the bookshelf, comforter, and desk. It’s so much nicer than Isak's room. 

Chris’ entire apartment is really nice. It’s really empty too, which is a relief. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone right now. 

It’s odd seeing Chris outside of a party atmosphere. Or outside of school. Or just when he isn’t putting on a performance, more or less. Not that his personality is manufactured - he’s pretty authentic - he just amps up the flirtiness when he’s in public, apparently. 

He's in sweats and an old t-shirt featuring a Russ Bus logo from 2015. “Normandy” presumably after the battle in World War two, which Isak has to say is a really strange thing to name your Russ Buss after. At least it’s not CoolAid or Mario Hoes or Hakuna Matitties, all of which Isak’s actually seen. He’d heard rumors that the penetrators and/or the “riot club” spent almost 2 million kroner on everything so far - their bus, their sweaters, their song (it hasn’t been recorded yet but he’s heard people talking about how much it was costing them). To be fair though, there are almost 30 people on their bus, so divided up it’s not as much per person, but it’s still...66 thousand? Goddamn. They must raise money, right?

Maybe Vilde’s right to jump on the Russ prep train so early. Buying and selling toilet paper.

Chris also, incidentally, wears glasses. 

“Glasses...that’s,” Isak starts, trailing off because he’s not really sure what he can say. They’re different. They make Chris look...different. They’re sitting in the kitchen, Isak in a Penetrators sweatshirt and boxers.

“I know. I know,” Chris says. “But if you tell anyone that I look ‘soft’...they won’t find the body.”

“Don’t worry I won't ruin your hardcore reputation.”

“You'd better not, I'm pretty hardcore. Only one more hardcore is like...William, probably. Or Julian.”

“Dahl?” Isak asks and Chris nods.

“Yeah. That Julian.”

“Well...you are the most hardcore and everyone fears you,” Isak says mockingly. Chris laughs. 

“Do you...do you also fear me?” He asks looking a little nervous. Mark that as the first time he’s ever seen Chris nervous.

“No. How could I? You wear glasses.”

“Shut up. They’re a medical necessity.”

“Why don’t you wear them at school?”

“One, it ruins the aesthetic, and two, I'm only nearsighted, so like...I don't really need them. I mean, I need them, but not enough to like bother with contacts.”

“So it's not so bad?” Isak asks after a second. The aesthetic? Is he fucking with him?

“No it is, I just...choose to suffer. Beauty is pain. Struggle,” Chris replies. Uh...wow.

“Wow.”

“I’m kidding. I wear contacts. Obviously,” he replies. Fuck. He’s really no good at reading people apparently. Or maybe just people he likes. Chris stands up from his chair and walks to the refrigerator.

“What time is it?” Isak asks watching Chris open the fridge and look inside. 

“About 11. You slept really deep. Like...super out. Like a light,” he says turning around and smiling slightly. 

“What the fuck, Chris!?” Isak bursts out. Chris was obviously not expecting that. The fridge door shuts loudly. 

“What? You needed the sleep!” He says. Isak runs a hand through his hair, suddenly in a bad mood. 

“We’re missing school,” Isak says. “Or...I’m missing school. I can’t miss school.” He must sound like such an asshole.

“Chill, it's only one day. How much have you missed? Are you even at your 10 percent yet?” He asks, opening up the fridge again and pulling out a collection of breakfast items.

“No, but -”

“You’re fine. Sometimes you can sleep.” 

“I really can’t,” Isak says laughing bitterly. Chris glances over at him. 

“What do you mean? If you aren’t at your 10 percent yet then your attendance doesn’t matter. It’s just for you.”

“My dad thinks I’m lazy,” Isak says. Should he really be talking about this right now?

“You? Lazy? You’re the only one who knows what’s going on in our English class. You’re probably just as good in your other classes. It doesn’t matter,” he says as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“I just...wish I didn’t live at home sometimes,” Isak says quietly.

“How bad is it?” Chris asks.

“Worse than I’ve told my friends…” he says. Chris is silent so he keeps going. “They’re really...um...religious. And I...can’t deal with the all of the ‘you’re going to hell’ talk.” Somewhat false, but Isak doesn’t really want to get into it.

“Do they know?” Chris asks. 

“No! And they won’t know. Ever,” Isak says, shaking his head, and Chris sighs. He pulls out a frying pan. 

“Can I ask why you were kicked out?” He asks, switching on the stove. 

“Yeah...um...just normal stuff,” Isak says. Chris turns to face him. 

“You normally get kicked out?” 

“No. I fought with my dad. I don’t get kicked out that often and I get to come back in a few days usually. It’s not bad. I just stay with Jonas for a bit. It’s kinda fun, really,” Isak says. 

“Has he gotten back to you? To your text?” he asks. Isak shakes his head. He’d checked when he’d woken up, but there was still nothing from Jonas. Or from Eva. “Ok…” Chris says slowly. He turns back around, cracking an egg into the frying pan. It sizzles.

“I can just leave if you want me to?” Isak suggests but Chris shakes his head, frowning. 

“No, it’s not a problem. You can stay here if you need to...we can just chill today. It’s Friday. We could watch TV? Play Counterstrike or something?”

“Sure. Yeah. Might as well,” Isak says. He’s already missed a couple of classes. He’s already in big shit. He can enjoy himself before hellfire rains down on him. The only issue is he left his meds at home. He needs to go back at some point to pick them up, but Dr. Hansen’s said that one missed day is alright as long as he gets right back on.

“Are you sure? We could take the bus in?” Chris offers. He flips an egg. Isak shakes his head. 

“Nah. Fuck it. Already here.”

They spend the afternoon on the couch watching America’s Next Top Model. It’s Cycle (which Isak figures out somewhat late in the game means Season) 22 and Chris seems irrationally invested in it, shushing Isak everytime anything remotely interesting happens. 

“I have to say, if there’s one thing that gives away I’m gay, it’s this. Though I guess it’s bi. Or pan, or whatever. Either way, this is good shit. Gay or not,” he says. Isak nods. He’s actually finding it pretty interesting but he knows he’d never be able to watch this at home. Gay or not his mom and dad would both hate it. 

Isak finds himself getting into the drama of it. It’s so psychological. Every challenge isn’t just about being a good model - the definition of which seems to change from challenge to challenge to be honest - it’s about knowing how to read the people and how to play with the other contestants. 

“This is good,” Isak finally says when the credits for episode 5 are playing on the TV. 

“I’m glad you like it young Padawan,” Chris says. “This is our culture. You have to see the original shit though. This is like...ratings bait, to get more people into it they added dudes but like...ladies have it so much harder as models. Like with the hair and everything.”

“But guys have to look good too,” Isak says. 

“Some of these guys just need a shave and a trim. The girls get all sorts of weaves and stuff. Except in Cycle 21. That homophobic guy got a beard weave and it was the worst. But like...cycle 11? Cycle 6? That was good shit. Andre Leon Talley. Legend,” Chris says reverently. Isak is silent for a second. 

“See...not scary. Nerdy. You like America’s Next Top Model enough that you yelled for the models to ‘smize and tooch’ and you just called me a padawan. I have too much blackmail.” 

“It’s not blackmail, William knows I love ANTM. He hates it, but hey, his hair also looks like a mop, so…and anyway...I don’t have to be more of who I already am here.”

“What do you mean?” Isak asks. 

“Like with all of the parties...I love them. I feel so free but it’s also a role. I make the party feel like a party. I bring the party. Like, it’s me, it’s just like...more.”

“The party don’t start til you walk in?” Isak asks with a smile. 

“Exactly.”

“How are you even paying for all the bus stuff?” Isak asks curiously. 

“I’m not. I’m like...the second poorest guy in the bus. I just have to act cool and show up to the parties. Which is awesome by the way. Don’t get me wrong, I fucking love to party.”

“Ok...but then…”

“Julian is...super rich. He’d be able to cover the entire thing and not even notice his bank account change. He paid for the rap track. But still...I think he and William and about 20 of the other guys have pretty much got it covered. I put in probably...3000 kroner?”

“Aren't your parents wealthy though?” Isak already knows the answer. Yes, obviously. By the size, location, and appearance of the apartment Isak can tell instantly. Way wealthier than Isak’s parents (after the alcohol and whatever else they spend money on).

“Yeah but they give me like...5000 KR a month and let me live here by myself. And they pay the rent. Like, Williams got that unlimited access, ya know? And Julian mines bitcoin.”

“Oh.” That makes sense. Probably. 

“Yeah, so I’m friends with all of them but I have ‘responsibility’ so they just let me do my thing,” Chris says. “Really it’s just a sweet gig. Party boy.”

Isak’s phone goes off. 

“Who’s it from? Jonas?” Chris asks. 

“Nah,” he says checking. “Eva?” He looks up slightly confused. 

“Maybe she has a room?” Chris says. Isak opens the text while Chris taps “Cycle 1 ANTM” into google.

 _I'm so sorry!! Ahh!! My mom was home so I've been spending time with her. School was super horrible today too. Is everything ok?_ Isak feels immediately guilty. She was with her mom. 

“Apparently school sucked today? And she was with her mom last night?”

“Oh...well that’s better than you thought it would be, right?” Chris asks. Isak nods. 

“Hold on...one second...she says there’s a rumor about her hooking up with you going around and she wants to know...if you started it?” Isak says. “Or she says she’s gonna ask you?” Fuck. Shit. Shit. Why did he do that? Fucking hell. Shit. Shit. Fuck. He starts breathing more heavily. 

“Are you ok?” Chris asks. 

“I think I fucked up,” he says quietly. 

“What do you mean? This is my fault. I hooked up with her. You didn’t say anything, did you?” Chris asks. Isak is silent for too long. His vision is blurring slightly with tears. Why is he like this? He shouldn’t cry at something like this. He brought this on himself. He should be strong. 

“I think so,” he finally admits. His chest feels tight. He’s more anxious than he’s been for awhile. 

“Shit. Fuck. This isn’t good,” Chris says tensing up. He’s looking away from Isak. 

“Yeah,” Isak says trying to calm himself down. He can’t have a panic attack in his new...friend’s house. 

“Why’d you do it?” Chris asks after a few seconds. He doesn’t sound judgemental, just confused.

“Ummm...I...felt abandoned? And...I thought Jonas might break up with her?” Isak chokes out. Saying it out loud makes it seem even more stupid than it did in his head. The anger seems to leak out of Chris. 

“Ok. So you were jealous because your best friend was dating…not you?” He tests out. He sounds so much calmer than he did a second ago. Isak nods. “Well, What should I do?”

“Deny hooking up? I don’t know. It’s the truth, isn’t it? That you hooked up?”

“Yeah. I’ll just…” Chris takes a deep breath. “I have to come clean about it. I fucked up. It’s on me. It’s not...Iben will be so pissed.”

“Why are you even dating her?”

“I thought it would motivate me to get monogamous, but...it obviously didn’t work out.”

“Maybe you just aren’t ready for that?” Isak suggest. Chris nods. 

“It’s not who I am. Maybe someday but definitely not right now. It makes me want to tear out my hair. It makes me feel trapped. I just can’t do that.” That makes sense, Isak thinks. Though it’s probably best if you don’t get anyone else in the mix. For example, a girl who thinks you’re dating exclusively. Or a girl with a boyfriend. Then again, Isak can’t really judge. 

“I think...we can work through this. Allies?” Isak asks. Chris sighs. 

“Yeah. Sounds good...do you want to finish the season?”

“Sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let us know what you think in the comments or on Tumblr! :)
> 
> Follow [poeandbeaux on tumblr ](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com) for more information!  
> Send us prompts [HERE](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com/ask)  
> [Chloe’s tumblr](http://chloebeaux.tumblr.com)!  
> [Priscilla’s tumblr ](http://boxesofflowers.tumblr.com)!  
> 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back! The three days did us some good and we should be able to post everyday again! :)
> 
> Note: There's a mention of something that I think counts as revenge porn but Poe thinks doesn't quite. It's not graphic and it doesn't take up much time in the chapter but it's there.

“The news got out that Eva cheated,” Vilde says as soon as Isak sits down across from her. It’s far too early. Vilde had texted him the night before telling him that they had to meet for breakfast at 7 the next day before Isak could talk to anyone else. They’re back in their usual coffee shop. They both have cups of black tea in front of them because it was ‘too early to actually eat breakfast’ according to Vilde and Isak wasn’t feeling hungry. They’re sitting in the most empty corner but she’s still talking in hushed tones. This is serious. 

“How?” Isak asks. He can feel the adrenaline chasing his sleepiness away. He has to find out if she knows or really if there’s any suspicion on him at all. If it gets out he’ll lose all of his friends (or all of them except for Chris). 

“I guess someone told Iben. She came over and hit Eva. It was awful,” she says her eyes going wide. Isak swallows. Eva got hurt? And it was because of him?

“Hit her?”

“Yeah. Punched her. I mean, I would too if someone hooked with my boyfriend like that though.”

“No, you wouldn't.”

“You're right. I wouldn't. But still! And now...the whole bus is blacklisted. And no one...No one seems to understand. It’s Eva’s fault, why should I feel sorry for her? But that’s...” She sighs. “That’s not important right now. Just because Eva was a slut -”

“Calm down.”

“Isak, it’s not fair! Noora’s all sorry for her - you didn’t see her do that when William dumped me!” Dumped isn’t a good way to put it, Isak wants to say, but he keeps his mouth shut. “She did this to herself! And now the whole bus is fucked.”

“Don’t jump the gun, V.”

She sighs again.

“I know. I know. It’s just like…” She bites her lip, and tears start to well up in her eyes. “Whatever.”

“It’s ok, V,” he says reaching a hand out across the table palm up. She reaches to give his hand a squeeze. “You’re ok,” he says again. She nods. 

“Anyway, Eva...no one will talk to her.”

He heads back to Chris’ only a few minutes later. He paid for Vilde’s coffee - she seems so upset lately, it’s the least Isak can do. He wants to stop by home and grab his meds but he’s afraid of getting caught in the act. Though he can’t go much longer without them. It’s a real catch 22, to be honest. He feels sick to his stomach. He can’t tell if it’s from the guilt or missing his meds or some combination of the two. Or having not eaten.

When he gets back to Chris’ house he feels exhausted. Trying to figure out how to deal with the entire situation and keep up a front like he doesn’t know anything and be reassuring and act like he’s completely fine...it’s so tiring. The door is unlocked. He just walks in and goes directly to the couch. 

“Rough breakfast?” Chris asks from where he’s curled up on the corner of the couch in a fluffy sweater. 

“More like...friend emergency and coffee,” Isak explains. 

“Oh...do you want something to eat now?” He asks. 

“No. I feel sick from the...caffeine on an empty stomach I think,” he says. It sounds better than ‘I’ve fucked up so much I don’t know what is wrong anymore’. 

“Ok...do you want to sleep it off?”

“Nah...let’s watch some more models arguing on TV.”

They sit for hours, only pausing to quickly order food and get some water. Isak hasn’t felt this relaxed in...he can’t really remember. It seems odd that he’d have such a moment of calm within the drama (the drama that he started and that is entirely his fault he can’t help but remind himself anytime it comes into his mind). He’s almost forgotten about it again when his phone goes off. It’s Eva. 

_jonas wont answer me can you talk to him?_   
_plis plis plis?????_

Should he really get more involved in this mess? He’s done enough. How much more does he need to ruin? Maybe he could try to fix things between them. Make things better.

“I have to go talk to Jonas,” he says. Chris looks over at him from the other end of the couch. He’s still in his hanging-out clothes and his glasses.

“You're not gonna wait for the kee mao?” Oh right. Chris ordered Thai food for dinner.

“No, I think I should just go,” he says shifting slightly getting ready to stand. 

“C’mon, just wait for the food. You haven’t eaten since...when did you eat last?” he asks, sounding vaguely suspicious.

“Breakfast,” he says nonchalantly, though it’s not true. He’s hoping Chris won’t remember.

“No, you didn’t eat breakfast. You told me you were nauseous, remember?” Fuck.

“Fine. But I have to leave right after,” Isak says sighing slightly and settling back into the couch. Chris tosses the blanket over his legs and bare feet and tucks some hair behind his ear.

“We’ll see.”

They’re watching cycle 2 of America’s Next Top Model now - they finished 22 yesterday and Chris is now working his way through from the beginning. They’re on the photo shoot part of the episode, but Isak can’t get too into it at the moment. There are too many thoughts bouncing around his head.

“I have a question,” he asks suddenly, and Chris turns to look at him.

“Yeah?” 

“Have you heard of a Vilde? First year?” Chris pauses the show.

“Oh yeah! I met her at a party at the beginning of the year. Her friend thought I was her other friend,” Chris says smiling slightly. “We’re name twins!”

“Has William ever talked about her?” Isak asks slowly. Chris frowns.

“Wiliam? Nei, never.”

“She slept with him,” he says shortly and Chris chuckles bitterly.

“She has that in common with a lot of girls,” he says, and Isak feels a surge of second-hand embarrassment.

“Well I was wondering if you thought...he’d ever want to actually date her?”

“No way,” Chris says immediately, pursing his lips.

“But you said -”

“If she likes him, he doesn’t like her, it’s that simple. William gets off on the chase. You know like...stalking the prey. The less a girl likes him, the more he wants her. It’s an inverse thing. So if she’s slept with him, there’s no way. Classic pump and dump. Fuck and chuck. Smash n trash,” he says. Isak crinkles his nose. “Sorry, too lewd for you, my baby? I forgot you’re just a first year.”

“No, just a...graphic phrase.”

“Well anyway, he’s not as nice about things as me. I’m very clear about my intentions, as you can tell. Hopefully,” Chris pauses looking slightly worried. Isak nods. He’s very sure of Chris’s stance when it comes to the two of them. “But William will say anything to get his dick wet. Sometimes I think he might be a sociopath.” Chris checks his phone. “Though he has an impressive collection of nudes,” he says offhandedly, scrolling through something before shoving the phone back into his hoodie pocket.

“Wow.”

“Yeah. He has a shared Google Drive for the bus. All the nudes go on there. For me, I prefer porn, but I guess it’s kind of hot.”

“That’s fucked up,” Isak says shaking his head in disbelief. It sounds... wrong. And illegal. Though probably not, to be honest, considering consent is 16. But it still feels...disgusting. 

“Maybe. So are the sweaters though. But girls wear ‘em, and girls send nudes, so...” He shrugs. “Kind of skeevy but hey, that’s life.”

“Sharing them though? Girls know you’ll share them?”

“Of course. They all know they get shared. At least smart girls know that. Who sends nudes to a guy they’re not dating expecting secrecy?”

“Vilde,” Isak says breathing out slowly. 

“Jesus. I can try to find them and delete them if you want?” Chris says immediately.

“Oh my god, yeah, please,” he rushes out. He had hoped that Chris would help him with the Vilde situation but he had never expected that he would be relying on him for something with stakes like this. Chris pulls out his phone and starts scrolling through a folder. 

“I found her I think,” he says. “They’re gone now.”

“Thank you. So much…” Isak trails off. 

“She really likes him?” Chris asks carefully.

“Yeah.”

“That’s a shame.” There’s a knock at the door, and Chris runs to get it. Isak sits there for a moment in silence before grabbing his phone. He texts Jonas.

_hey can we talk? Meet for coffee maybe?_ He’s not really expecting a reply - if anything maybe something in an hour or two, but he immediately gets a response.

_yeah itd be nice to see you_ Isak’s heart skips a beat. 

_:) KB by school at 19?_ It’s a little late but Isak wants to eat with Chris.

_sure. Ill see you soon_

He’s still staring at his phone when Chris walks back in with the food. He pushes his thick glasses up the bridge of his nose and sets down the plastic bag on the coffee table.

“Ok, so we’ve got kee mao, extra spicy, fried dumplings, and two iced Thai coffees. They’re really good. They’ve got like...cream and cardamom and almond. Here,” he passes Isak a takeout box and a plastic fork. “I always thought they used chopsticks in Thailand but I guess not.”

“You’re a good guy, Chris,” Isak says. 

“It’s just some Thai food. It’s really not–” Chris says, trying to play it off. 

“No. I mean it. Thanks for helping me and...caring enough.”

“Oh. Um...you’re welcome. But really, I have to take care of my investment here. How am I supposed to kiss you when you’re sad and hungry, huh?” He asks, taking a sip of his drink. Isak smiles.

“Yeah...that makes sense. But who’s to say I’d still kiss you?” Isak says laughing. 

Chris leans in, and their lips lock for a solid 30 seconds. 

“We both know you would,” he says, and Isak feels himself blush.

He’s out the door about 40 minutes later, stuffed with Thai food and decorated with two new hickeys. It’s freezing, but his coat is warm and Chris lent him a scarf. The tram is busy - even though it’s past 17, it’s still somewhat rush hour.

Isak manages to get there in time and sees Jonas already sitting by the window, sipping a coffee, looking spaced out. Isak hasn’t seen him looking like this...ever. 

“It's nice hanging with you again,” Jonas says, though his words are somewhat hollow like he’s only half here.

“It really is,” Isak says. 

“I don't know what to do about Eva,” he says after a long pause and takes a sip of his coffee. 

“It's kind of fucked she hid it from you like that,” Isak says, though he knows it’s manipulative. 

“If she'd just told me I'd have forgiven her. But to find out like that? From someone else? It's gross.”

“So...how pissed are you, really?” Isak asks. Jonas shrugs. 

“I just feel...empty? Like I don’t trust myself to talk to her because I wouldn’t have the restraint to hold back from saying the things I knew would hurt the most?” he says. “I sometimes feel like...she just...does what other people think is cool. Like she doesn’t have a mind of her own. And she’s so insecure, Isak. Like...I get maybe I didn’t spend enough time with her -”

“Weren’t you always together?”

“Uh…” He trails off. “I told you that. I’ve been smoking a lot with Elias. I didn’t want you to know, I know you don’t like him, and if Eva asked you…” He shakes his head.

“Oh.”

“It’s bad. I thought if I was ever this mad I would be fiery or have trouble thinking but instead everything is so clear and obvious and I feel like a fucking idiot,” Jonas explains flatly.

“I was thinking about talking to her...if you wanted me to tell her anything,” Isak says. 

“Just...tell her to leave me alone and that I can’t talk to her. And that it was shitty.”

“Ok.”

“I just don’t understand why she did it. I can understand Penetrator Chris being a dick and a cheater and a horrible excuse for a human...but Eva?” he says. Isak’s stomach turns slightly. He forgets what he thought of Chris just a month ago. It seems like forever ago. 

“Yeah, I don’t know why she did it.” But he does. But he can’t tell Jonas that.

There’s a really long silence.

“You’re a really good friend, Isak. I’m sorry I’ve been...caught up with all this,” he says, and Isak nods.

“It’s ok, I get it.”

“And I’m really sorry I didn’t respond to your text the other day.”

“That’s ok too.” Jonas gives a little smile.

“Ok, cool. I wanna be a better friend.”

Before they part ways, they share a long hug, Isak’s head tucked against Jonas’s chest. It makes him forget everything. Everyone else. He loves Jonas. That shit with Chris...with Even...that’s not real. This? This is real love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let us know what you think in the comments or on Tumblr! :)
> 
> Follow [poeandbeaux on tumblr ](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com) for more information!  
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> 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter! Hope you all enjoy it! :)  
> Feel free to come talk to us on tumblr (asks or messages) or in the comments!

Things go from bad to worse more quickly than Isak can handle. One minute he's fine - just feeling tight chested and nervous - and the next he's curled in a ball, hands over his ears, trying to block out the voices coming from nowhere and everywhere at once.

He manages to call Dr.Hansen, who tells him to go to the emergency room, so he does. He takes the tram, his knuckles white and eyes pressed so tightly closed he wants to cry.

He makes it – just barely – and he scribbles what he's pretty sure is the right information on to the intake form they give him. Shortly after, he spirals into a full panic attack, and that's where his lucidity ends. He wakes up in an uncomfortable bed in a beige, gray, and white room. He doesn't feel any sore spots where needles might've been, and there aren't any tubes or wires attached to him.

He feels distinctly calmer but overwhelmingly exhausted. He wishes he could remember more of what happened. It’s all a weird blur. 

A nurse walks in.

“Hi, Mr. Valtersen,” she says, and Isak smiles at her. His mouth feels dry and tastes awful. “How are we feeling?”

“Uh...ok.”

“We’ve got some breakfast coming in a little while, then the doctor should be making her rounds. We’re still trying to get in touch with your primary caregiver -” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, n-no. Don’t do that.” The nurse frowns, looking up from her little rolling computer stand.

“Your emergency contacts were listed in your patient profile, we have an obligation to reach out.”

“You don’t need to anymore. I’m awake now.”

“We’ve left messages.” Fuck fuck fuck. This is not good. His dad is going to kill him. Quite literally. She hands him a small paper cup. “There are your antibiotics.”

“What?” That doesn’t make sense. 

“You have a slight gastrointestinal infection.”

“No, I don’t. I have schizophrenia.”

“You came in for that, I know, but after doing a blood test we saw elevated white blood cell count and with some further examination we realized it was an infection. Infections can really worsen diseases like schizophrenia,” she says matter-of-factly. 

“Oh.”

“You should be out in no time. Assuming the doctor clears you for discharge.”

“Ok.”

“You’ve been experiencing nausea, correct?”

“Yeah, but I just thought it was anxiety. And I had stomach flu a few weeks ago.”

“Well, that was likely an infection as well. This is just lingering.”

“Right.”

“What did you...what did you say in the messages?” Isak asks nervously. 

“Just that your parent or guardian should call Ulleval as soon as possible. Nothing else. And no information will be released over the phone.”

“Ok,” he says with a sigh. Thank God.

He lies in bed in a state of apprehension the rest of the day, drifting in and out of sleep and picking at the various meals he’s brought on plastic trays. He’s not sure when his father’s going to show up, only that he will eventually.

He doesn’t know where his phone is. He left without telling Chris where he was going to be. More importantly, he didn’t tell Jonas. He’d been planning to shift his temporary residency to the Vasquez's last night, but all this had happened before he could.

He’s in a private room at least, and there’s a TV which is nice. There are American movies playing on one channel and another lets you choose from a list of about 300 which one you want to see. Most are mediocre but they have Moonrise Kingdom, which he ends up turning on when there’s absolutely nothing else left to do.

He cries at the end. It’s a happy ending, technically, but it doesn’t feel like the happy ending Isak was expecting. It’s bittersweet even though it’s sweet? He isn’t sure how to describe it accurately. He’s seen it before, obviously, but today is the first time he’s felt like this. 

Everything feels off. Nothing sees stable. He had been so used to his routine and suddenly everything has been thrown off. So thrown off that his new favorite movie feels wrong. There’s something sad about that. The day keeps getting further from his routine. 

“Mr. Valtersen? Your father is here to see you,” a nurse says cheerfully. Isak fumbles with the remote turning off the TV which had been playing ‘What Not To Wear’ quietly in the background. He’s told the nurses a thousand times just to call him Isak, but they never remember. Not that he can really blame them though, they have a lot more important things to focus on.

“Isak,” his father says, and Isak immediately feels his stomach clench.

“Hi, pappa.”

“What are you doing here?” he doesn’t sound angry really, which is a relief. Though Isak isn’t sure how exactly to explain this without giving everything away.

“I got really drunk. They had to pump my stomach,” he lies after a long silence, and his father’s face hardens.

“Drunk? You’re 16 Isak.”

“I know,” he says quietly.

“This is unacceptable. Absolutely unacceptable. Do you know how much I’ve sacrificed in my life for you? Your mother’s heart was broken enough after what happened with Lea, and I told her it wasn’t a good idea to have another child. And look, I was right. After all that, I was right.”

Lea was born prematurely in 97. She lived for a year before she died of a heart condition. Isak’s heard a lot about her - how her death made his mother’s condition so much worse, how beautiful she was, how small, how pretty, how sweet. 

“I’m sorry Pappa, it was a mistake, it won’t happen again,” he says quietly.

“Isak. People have to live with the mistakes they make all the time,” he says.

“What...what does that mean?”

“You know what it means,” his father says shortly. “Get ready to leave.” Isak hesitates.

“I haven’t been discharged.”

“That doesn’t matter. You’re wasting everyone’s time.”

“But–”

“We’re going back home. Do we need to have a talk about this behavior?” His father asks. Isak shakes his head. 

“No, pappa.”

“Get up. We’re leaving.”

Suddenly things feel normal again. It’s like he never left home. Like he never had his weekend away from his parents with Chris. Like he had never screwed things up with Jonas and Eva (and then fixed things with Jonas. Maybe). He’s used to this. Isak knows what a disappointment he is. He gets that he’s a waste of his parents’ time. His father is just stating the obvious. He’s always been right and Isak was stupid to have thought any differently. It hurts to really understand the truth.

He packs up his things without complaint or question. As he’s leaving, a single nurse shouting a ‘Sir! Sir! You haven’t been discharged!’ after him, he thinks he sees something. A head of Even-like blonde hair. He’d recognize it anywhere. It lights up his chest instantly, but he pushes down the feeling just as quick. He’s seeing things. Why would Even be here? 

The nurse catches up to him and makes Isak sign a form saying that the hospital isn’t liable for anything that happens to him once he leaves, and his father seems put out by the fact they’re being held up at all.

When Isak finally looks up from the page, he sees something else that sends a spark of excitement through his chest. Someone’s sitting at one of the chairs down the hall. Their hair looks like Even’s. Dirty, sure, but Even’s. And his shoulders look like Even’s. And that’s Even’s flannel and Even’s hand resting on his knee. He can’t see the face, but something tells him it has to be Even. It is. It has to be.

Before he can start walking back down the hall his father grips his arm hard, pulling him along and out the front doors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let us know what you think in the comments or on Tumblr! :)
> 
> Follow [poeandbeaux on tumblr ](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com) for more information!  
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> [Chloe’s tumblr](http://chloebeaux.tumblr.com)!  
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> 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back! We're going to be doing every other day updates to finish out this part! :) (Sorry for pulling a DRUCK on you guys hahahaha).

He's back at school the next day.

He's hanging out in the yard, next to Jonas, when he catches a glimpse of Eva. She’s standing toward the street, her hands in her pockets. Isak’s almost about to call her over when Elias suggests they head back inside. Jonas doesn’t see her, and Isak doesn’t mention it to him.

It happens again a few days later. This time Eva’s sitting with a girl he recognizes but doesn’t know the name of. She’s around Vilde a lot. Could she be Sana? No, that doesn’t really make sense. Vilde said Sana was Muslim and he’s assuming she wears hijab. So...it’s not Chris, it’s not Sana...who else does Vilde hang with?

Either way, they seem to be having a pretty good time until William, of all people, comes up and starts to talk to them. Could it be about Vilde? According to Chris (Schistad), William couldn’t be any less interested in her, but he’s talking to one of her friends, so maybe he was wrong?

He doesn’t hear from Vilde again until the next Saturday, and when he picks up the phone she’s crying. His heart immediately breaks, while he simultaneously feels his ears start to get hot like they do when he’s mad. He hates it when she cries, it’s like he’s being gutted.

When she calms down enough to hear him, he quickly tells her to meet him at their usual coffee shop before hanging up and booking it to the tram stop.

He has to sneak out his window - his father’s been really upset with him lately. Even the smallest things will set him off. With good reason, Isak knows, but still. At least the antibiotics he took for a few days managed to clear up what was left of his stupid stomach bug - he hadn’t realized how shitty he felt until the shitty feeling finally went away.

It seems stupid, even to him, but he’s sort of afraid to get sick again. He’s always had a shit immune system - probably to do with his sleep - and he’s always more or less managed on his own, but now there’s this fear. What if his father finds out? What if he hits him harder? 

He shakes the thoughts from his head as the tram pulls up to the stop. The trip passes quickly. He manages to just zone out and stop worrying (for once). 

Of course, it doesn’t last very long. He finds Vilde sitting in the corner, staring at her still-full mug of hot chocolate, her mascara smeared. She looks surprised to see him at first, and sniffles.

“Hi,” he says softly. He doesn’t make a move to sit and just shifts awkwardly in place. She sniffles again, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Hi. Why did you want to meet up?” She asks, and he has to stop himself from laughing.

“You were crying.” She wipes her cheek.

“I cry a lot.”

After they’ve both gone up to the counter and gotten some food and Isak’s drink and they’re both seated, he decides to ask her what’s wrong.

“I mean...are you…” He trails off, hoping she’ll take the lead.

“It’s just everything with the bus and Eva and...everything.” She stares at her cup.

“But what happened?” It’s a while before she answers.

“Well, I found out our whole bus was blacklisted. Because of Eva. And you know...it was ok, when it was just her. It was bad, but I could still...I still felt bad for her. To not even be able to explain to your boyfriend...whatever. She seemed so upset. And then I find out our whole bus is blacklisted -”

“What does that mean though? And haven’t you known for a while?” He cuts her off. She looks surprised.

“I mean...last year a girl had her hair cut off. And obviously, we won’t be allowed at parties. And if it keeps up how are we ever going to get a bus sponsor?” She sighs. “And...I knew. I just...Iben called me a whore. And if that’s what being blacklisted is…” She trails off. “I don’t know. I just...I don’t want to be blacklisted.”

They sit there in silence for a little while longer, and she takes a sip of her drink.

“I don’t know if it’s...well...I think it might not be as big a deal as you think. Iben calls lots of people lots of things,” he finally says.

“Well, whatever. I thought it was a big deal. And I was mad. So I called a bus meeting and I told everyone everything and they just…” She trails off. “It’s not fair, Isak. Why is it when I sleep with William I’m a slut, I don’t have dignity, I’m a loser, but Eva...it’s not Eva’s fault. We shouldn’t call Eva a slut. We shouldn’t be annoyed that now every 2nd and 3rd year hates us? Because of her? And you know...maybe it was all stupid, what I said, but...now it’s too late. I ruined it. I ruined everything.” She sounded genuinely angry for a moment - something Isak hardly ever hears - but it faded pretty fast.

“What...what are you talking about?”

“I...maybe I was too harsh. I was. And...Noora’s right, I shouldn’t be calling Eva a slut I was just mad,” she says, not answering the question.

“Mad?” Isak asks softly. 

“Yeah! I was mad! Isak, she has everything on earth! Everything someone could want! And she did this to herself. She’s the reason she’s in this situation. And here I am -” Her voice breaks. “Here I am trying so hard...trying so hard to do the right thing. And I still end up in a worse place.”

He knows she’s talking about more than William and Jonas and her friends. She’s talking about living in a tiny apartment, her mother in and out of hospitals, struggling to scrape together rent money and eating stale bread for dinner. She’s talking about getting up at 6 AM on a Saturday so she can get to the thrift store right when it opens because she wants the clothes that look new and nice and like they don’t come from someone else’s unwanted things. She’s talking about wanting to be a girl that people like but never seeming to hit the mark.

“I’m sure you can apologize,” he offers, and she shakes her head.

“No, Isak. It’s...it’s ruined. It’s wrecked. None of them even cared about Russ in the first place, they all thought I was crazy for even caring about it. Why would they want to talk to me again? After I said all that?” She sniffles again, and Isak wishes he could say something to make all this better. Say something to make her feel ok.

But he can’t. So he’ll try his best.

“Look, V, I’m sure if they’re really good people they’ll accept your apology. They’ll understand.” At least he hopes they will. 

“What if they don’t?”

“Then I’m still here. And we’ll wait till you find people who’ll get you.”

“Mm,” she hums quietly, and Isak sighs. “How are you?”

“Uh…” He debates telling her where he’s been. On one hand, he doesn’t want to worry her, on the other...if he doesn’t tell her, he’s alone in all this. And he doesn’t want to be alone. He tells most of the truth. “I was in the hospital.”

“Isak! Herregud! Why didn’t you tell me? Were you - did you have the flu or something?” Her expression immediately changes to near-panic, and he regrets saying anything.

“It was a really bad panic attack. Not even. It was like...a break,” he says. 

“I’m sorry,” Vilde says, furrowing her eyebrows.

“It’s ok.” After he’s said it he’s not sure what else to say. Now she’s just sitting there with that sad, concerned expression.

“Was someone with you? In the hospital? Jonas or someone?” She asks. He takes a sip of his coffee. It has too much sugar, but he needs to caffeine so he takes another sip.

“No uh...my dad found out and picked me up but other than that I was alone. It was alright though. Not so bad,” Isak says, trying to play it off. She's still got that concerned look on her face.

“How was he?”

“Angry. I told him it was because I had alcohol poisoning.” he takes another sip of coffee. He doesn’t want to talk about this anymore - hell, he doesn’t want to think about it anymore.

“Wow.”

“It's ok, though. He didn't tell my mom so…” he sighs. “I just can't really afford to fuck up again.” Vilde doesn’t know how much he means it. Some part of him through hopes she’ll figure it out.

“Are you feeling better?” 

“Yeah. I’m getting there.”

“What are you doing tonight?” She asks after a moment. The question catches him off guard.

“Well uh...Chris texted me about a party so I might uh...go party.” Go see Even. 

“You hate parties. And Chris would’ve told me if she texted you.” Isak’s confused for a moment before finally realizing what she means.

“Not girl Chris. Chris S. Penetrator Chris,” Isak says. Vilde furrows her brows.

“Why are you hanging out with him? He’s a jerk,” she says. Isak sighs slightly. He’s glad he didn’t tell her where he’s been staying this entire time. 

“We’re not best friends or anything,” he says, trying to preemptively alleviate her jealousy. Vilde's expression changes slightly.

“Are you guys hooking or something?” Her lip curls and his heart sinks into his stomach. He tries to laugh.

“Of course not. Why would you say that?”

“I know he’s gay. You’re...gay. So…”

“I’m not...gay. I just like Jonas. That’s all. And...he’s not gay I don’t think? And besides, that doesn’t mean we’re hooking. I just want to get my mind off of stuff for a little bit. Why are you asking?”

“I just don’t have anything to do. And it’s a Friday. So…” She clears her throat. “It’s ok.”

“How about we hang out tomorrow? At my place?” he offers. She bites her lip.

“What time would you be free?”

“10-ish I guess? As long as I sleep at home.” She raises her eyebrows. “What? I might...sleep somewhere else.” She smirks and he rolls his eyes.

“You’re lucky I really love you Isak. And I mean it. I do love you.”

“I love you too, V.”

When Isak gets to the party, he has one objective. Find Even. He doesn’t care if they don’t really know each other, if he has a girlfriend, if it won’t work out between them. Isak doesn’t have anything to lose. He wants this to work. And if they can’t be together together...he just wants to be near him. Be close to him. Sure, that’ll hurt too but at least he’ll be close. 

After 20 minutes of stumbling through crowds and clouds of smoke, he still hasn’t seen Even. Then out of the corner of his eye he sees a familiar face. The girl from the Halloween party. His girlfriend.

He takes a moment to gather himself.

“You’re Even’s girlfriend? Hi!” He says more enthusiastically than he feels. He’s learned that new people respond better to friendly enthusiasm than ‘I want your boyfriend’.

“Yeah?” She says, pursing her lips. Her tone is so cold it throws him for a loop. He stutters and she raises her eyebrows. “What?”

“Where is he? I’ve been–” She turns away from the girl she was talking to, crossing her arms.

“Why does it matter?” She says cutting him off.

“I just want to know what’s up with him.” A glare starts to form on her face. “I haven’t–”

“You’re fucking sick,” she finally says, in a half hushed, pointed tone. “He has enough to deal with without people like you trying to fuck him over, ok? It’s disgusting.” She’s practically spitting the words at him.

“Umm…” His cheeks are burning with shame though he’s not sure exactly what he’s done.

“Stay the fuck away from me. Stay the fuck away from my boyfriend. Just mind your own business, fy faen. Is that so hard?” She takes a deep breath. “It’s because of people like you that he’s where he is now. So just. Fuck. Off,” She finishes, turning back to her friend as if nothing happened. 

He stumbles backward, and gets lost in the shuffle of people. He lets the makeshift current carry him until he stands frozen in the corner of the room, his heart beating too quickly, his eyes burning. The roaring in his ears blocks out the pulsing beat of the party. Time isn’t passing correctly. Or maybe it is. Isak can’t tell. The air feels thick and hot and there are tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

“Isak?” Chris says. It’s like he’s been snapped out of a trance. “There you are I’ve–” he stops, seeing Isak’s face. “Isak?” 

Isak just sniffles slightly. Chris opens up his arms and when Isak make no move closer to him, he moves forward to wrap Isak in a hug. Isak tries to relax; feel the warm arms around him and just forget the confusing, strangely upsetting thing that just happened. But he can’t.

“You disappeared on me the other day. I was worried about you,” Chris finally says. His hand rests on the small of his back, and Isak feels a little wave of chills run down his arm. It’s been a while since he’s been touched like that.

“Why?” He asks quietly. Chris pouts.

“You’re my sweet little first year. How could I not be worried?” He says, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “What if you’d gone and cut your pretty hair?” He teases, running a hand through Isak’s - admittedly slightly dirty - curls. “Or got a new third year to kiss? There’s plenty of reasons to worry.” His smile fades when he sees Isak’s face is neutral. “Seriously, I was worried. You didn’t seem like you were in a good mood. And you haven’t responded to my texts...I just...I thought that...I don’t know.”

“I’ve just been really busy,” Isak lies. Chris’s hand slides under the hem of his shirt.

“You weren’t in class for a bit.”

“Yeah...it was a personal thing.” Chris raises his eyebrows. 

“Personal?”

“Yeah. Is that so hard to believe?” He almost snaps. He knows his words don’t have any bite - as much as he wants to be a badass and seem intimidating there’s no changing how he looks. Like a first year. Like Chris’s pretty boy with pretty curls. Helpless. Needing someone to kiss him and touch him and -

“Why are you so pissy?”

“I’m not pissy,” he snaps back. Chris sighs.

“Do you want to make out?” He asks halfheartedly, and Isak bites his lip.

“No I’m just...I’m not really in the right mood.” Chris touches his cheek lightly.

“Ok. Text me back next time, yeah?” Isak nods, and the older boy gives him a small smile before disappearing back into the party.

Isak walks to the tram stop, thinking about Even. The not seeing him has his imagination going wild. He can almost feel Even’s warm hand in his, maybe even an arm around his shoulder, his body heat keeping the cold somewhat at bay. Maybe they’re going to get coffee or heading back to his place to watch a movie. Moonrise Kingdom, maybe.

He isn’t sure what Even’s girlfriend meant by all that exactly. Did she somehow know he had a massive crush? Did she mistake him for someone else? In the moment it was just shocking. Now, he’s only confused.

When he’s falling asleep that night, he can’t get the image of Even in the hospital out of his head. It was only glimpses Isak saw, but he’s almost sure it was Even. Either way, it doesn’t matter now. He won’t be seeing him anytime soon, and it’s not like they had any sort of real connection anyway. 

It was all just...in his head. Just like everything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let us know what you think in the comments or on Tumblr! :)
> 
> Follow [poeandbeaux on tumblr ](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com) for more information!  
> Send us prompts [HERE](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com/ask)  
> [Chloe’s tumblr](http://chloebeaux.tumblr.com)!  
> [Priscilla’s tumblr ](http://boxesofflowers.tumblr.com)!  
> 


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...Skam Austin? I'm hopeful (and a fan of the double Isak theory) but Poe is less so (and concerned about the possibilities). Let us know what you think (or scream about it with us on Tumblr).

He can’t believe it’s been a month since he started his meds. He was skeptical that it’d been that long at first, but sure enough, he’s down to only three more pills so it’s been...27 days. It doesn’t seem that long ago. Maybe that’s because his life hasn’t really changed much besides the fact that he hasn’t had symptoms for almost three weeks.

The pills are on automatic refill, Dr. Hansen told him they’d be ready today but he’s been waiting here at the counter for almost 10 minutes while the pharmacist rummages around. This should be the right pharmacy, he distinctly remembers getting a really mediocre bagel from the 7-11 next door last time he was here.

“Are you sure this is the pharmacy you’ve registered your prescription with?” The pharmacist asks, walking back to the counter. 

“Yeah. Shouldn’t it be on file?” Isak asks. He can practically feel his anxiety buzzing through his veins. The pharmacist frowns. 

“You’re sure you didn’t pick it up already?” 

“Yeah...definitely didn’t pick it up yet,” he manages. The pharmacist taps something into her computer and nods.

“It’s on file but -” 

“Yeah?” he cuts her off.

“It says it was picked up earlier today,” she responds pursing her lips. 

“What?” He asks, hoping he heard wrong. “That’s - there’s…”

“Sir?” She asks, and he shakes his head.

“No. I...I didn’t tell anyone about the...I am the only person who knows I have a prescription here,” he says, words almost frantic.

“A...um...Terje Valtersen signed for it?” She says pushing the screen around to show him. 

“No,” Isak says automatically. This can’t be happening. It’s...not quite his worst nightmare, but close. Really close.

“Is that not somebody you know?” 

“No. I just...a surprise. That’s my father. Um…” His mind is totally blank. 

“Alright, so then I’m sure it’s waiting for you at home. Sorry for the confusion,” she says with a smile, and Isak nods numbly, turning and walking back out of the store. He feels like he’s dreaming. Or...sleepwalking. Like he’s not really here. This isn’t really happening.

He checks his phone. No messages from his dad. Maybe he didn’t check the medication names? Maybe he thinks they’re just antibiotics from his little hospital visit. That calms Isak’s nerves a little, but not much.

He sits on a bench outside the 7-11, eating another mediocre bagel and a way too big slushie. It’s neon blue and tastes more like sugar than any discernible flavor, not to mention it’s way too cold to be drinking a slushie, but he figures why not? 

He eventually gets on the tram. Every second he gets closer to home he feels the dread building in his chest. It builds and builds until he feels nauseous and it’s almost hard to think.

When he pushes open the front door, he has a moment of relief when he hears only silence. Maybe no one is home. Maybe he can put this all off for a little while longer. The relief doesn’t last long.

“Isak,” his father’s voice says in a tone Isak’s only heard a few times in his entire life. If tonight ends up anything like those times, Isak is seriously fucked. “We need to talk.”

He walks carefully into the living room where his father is sitting with two pill bottles in front of him on the coffee table. His expression is hard and cold, his hands folded in his lap.

“Take a seat,” he says, almost casually, so Isak does. He stares down at his shoes. Finally, his father speaks again. “Do you know why we need to talk?”

“I think so,” Isak replies softly, and his father shifts his weight forward.

“Do you remember what happened four years ago?” Isak nods. “So you don’t need me to remind you?” Isak shakes his head this time. “First, you’re not sick. You, Isak, are not sick. You’ve never been sick and you never will be. The fact that you’d lie to some doctor about symptoms just to get pills is abhorrent. Disgusting.” His voice is getting more unhinged. “Second, you know how diseases like this work. At least you should know by now. Even if you were sick, you know how we feel about these in this house. How do we feel about them?”

“I don’t know,” he says quietly.

“You do know,” his father snaps.

“No.”

“Schizophrenia, depression, psychoticism, whatever you want to call it - it all stems from a fault within ourselves. The brain is shut down, paralyzed by these things - these pills. They’re toxic. You need to clean a wound before you cover it in gauze. You can’t fix yourself if your brain is dead. Not to mention it’s selfish. The whole thing. Do you really want to be like your mother?” Isak can already feel himself starting to cry, but he tries to swallow the lump in his throat.

“No, Pappa.”

“You might think you’re sick, but you’re not. No one is. These are all choices we make. We choose sin and we become corrupted, do you understand?”

“It’s not -”

“It’s not what? It’s not about that? It’s about sin and it’s about allowing yourself to be overcome by these demons. And I won’t have it in my house! I have enough of that already.” His voice keeps getting louder.

“But Pappa...I can’t…”

“Terje, what are you talking about?” His mother’s voice says from the doorway, and somehow Isak’s anxiety manages to ratchet up a notch. This is starting to reach worst-case-scenario levels of shitty. 

“Marianne, it’s not your concern,” he says, and she crosses her arms, walking into the room.

“He’s sick? Sick how?”

“He’s taking these pills. The pharmacy called the house and I went and picked them up. They’re for...psychosis. And I’m simply explaining that it isn’t acceptable,” he says, his voice dripping in condescension like it does whenever they fight.

“That’s not very fair, is it?” She says, and he raises his voice again.

“What? That I don’t want another psycho under my roof?”

“He can’t help it if that’s how he is,” she says. Isak feels warm. Is his mother defending him after all these years? Maybe he was wrong to give up hope? “Isak, you know we don’t support prescription medication in this house, and-”

“Don’t let him off the hook! This is insanity! And it’s because of your example.”

She’s quiet for a moment. She sighs. 

“Here’s my suggestion. You aren’t actually sick, Isak. No more of this nonsense. It all stops and we go on like this never happened,” she says. “Isak, you're not...you're not sick. You can't be.”

“Mamma?” He asks. She can’t just...know that. He needs help. He’d like her help. She’s his mother. 

“We can’t just forget this!” Terje starts.

“Terje–” Marianne starts.

“No!” he cuts her off. “I won’t let that happen! He needs to be punished. He needs to feel the consequences,” his father says firmly. Isak’s heart sinks. 

“Who are you to say anything about how he should be treated? You’re never around!” She yells back.

“And you are?”

“You’re a terrible husband and a terrible father.”

“And you're insane.”

“Stop it!” Isak shouts. “Please...just...don’t…” he says shakily.

“You can’t have a say in this,” Marianne says more firmly, ignoring Isak. 

“So you think I don’t contribute?” His father asks, his voice suddenly calm.

“No,” she says flatly. 

“Fine. See how things get on without me.”

Without any other words, he walks out, slamming the front door behind him, and his mother stands in silence for a few moments staring after him. Isak’s about to speak when she explodes.

“How could you do this?!” She shouts.

“Mamma-”

“Isak, I’m not talking to you! Please, just go away. Go to your bedroom.” He hesitates and she shouts more loudly. “Go!”

So he does. When he’s alone he starts to cry. Sob. It's not often he cries like this - so hard. Usually, it's silent and sullen - he's learned after years of not wanting to wake up his parents how to keep himself quiet - but sometimes he gets...overwhelmed.

He calls Jonas, not even able to get out words between his sobs but hoping he'll somehow understand.

“Isak?” His voice says, but Isak can't make his voice form anything intelligible in response. “Where are you?”

“H-h-ome,” he manages to get out. He can’t help but feel the embarrassment building up in his chest. He’s so fucking pathetic. 

“I'm coming. Unlock your window for me.” He hangs up without waiting for Isak to respond. In under 15 minutes, he's there. Isak's managed to reign in his tears somewhat, but now his eyes feel hot and puffy and his cheeks are stained with tear tracks. 

Jonas stays the night. He sleeps in Isak's bed and doesn't ask any questions, and the next morning he makes Isak fried eggs and toast and they watch a movie together in his bedroom. Isak hasn’t explained very much, and Jonas hasn’t pushed him.

His mother is in her bedroom. He’d check on her if it didn’t scare him so much. He’s terrified of what he’ll have to do if he opens that door.

So he just stays in bed with Jonas and they watch movies. He’s turned off his phone - the less connected he is to the outside world the better. At least it feels better that way.

Isak’s not sure what time it is when there’s a knock on the door. He has no desire to get up - worst case scenario, it’s his father. Best case...there really wasn’t a best case. And even if there was, nothing - absolutely nothing - is going to drag him out of bed and back into reality.

After the third knock, Jonas gets up. He’s gone for what feels like forever, and when he comes back Isak doesn’t question him. He doesn’t want to know. So Jonas doesn’t say anything, just squeezes his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let us know what you think in the comments or on Tumblr! :)
> 
> Follow [poeandbeaux on tumblr ](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com) for more information!  
> Send us prompts [HERE](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com/ask)  
> [Chloe’s tumblr](http://chloebeaux.tumblr.com)!  
> [Priscilla’s tumblr ](http://boxesofflowers.tumblr.com)!  
> 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's that time of the semester when I have every paper due within a 4 day period. Ahhhhhhh. -Chloë
> 
> Here's ch 22 (ft. the appearance of a favorite)

When Isak finally gets out of his awful mood (though that doesn’t quite do it justice does it?), and his dad is finally back, he goes back to school. He’s already pushing his ten percent. He’d had to go in and talk to the head of school and explain his absences and everything, but he wasn’t failing any classes so there wasn’t much more to do.

Things haven’t gone back to normal. Not even close. But he can pretend they have. He can go through the motions. At least now things are somewhat stable. Manageable.

He’s resigned himself to give up hope on ever actually seeing Even again. More than ever, he can’t stand going to parties, and even if they were to meet up, what could Isak even do? Nothing’s going to happen the way he wants, so why torture himself?

He’s just going to go back to his stupid fantasies and dreams. 

He’s sure people can tell he’s depressed. Or at least not in a good mood. Isak isn’t exactly sure if he can actually be depressed if he’s already crazy in another way. He has therapy in a few days, he can ask then.

Vilde’s been texting him nonstop about this party she’s heard about - something with Iben and first-year boys - and he couldn’t be less interested. Though he feels some obligation if he’s honest. Vilde’s been there for him, the least he can do is care about this dumb party. She deserves to be happy (especially if he’s one of the causes of her problems. He set everything in motion. He didn’t think it would affect her like it did.).

The day of the party is only a day after his latest therapy session, but still, he makes a beeline for the beer. He doesn’t really have a rationale behind it, just the vague idea that he’ll have a more bearable time if he’s drunk. He hasn’t drank in...too long. He’s been so responsible. He’s definitely not supposed to mix his meds with alcohol, but honestly, he doesn’t have much left to lose at this point.

Isak misses Chris. He misses Jonas. He misses feeling like someone loves him, even if it was only for a few moments at a time. And he hates that he misses it. He shouldn’t need that, he shouldn’t have to crave that. But he does anyway.

It seems that way for everything, almost. He knows he shouldn’t, he knows it isn’t right, but there it is all the same. Every little broken piece of him trying to shove its way out into the open where everyone can see.

So he has a beer. Before he can even open the can, Eva’s in front of him. He’s sure this is going to be the moment where she curses him out for breaking up her and Jonas, but she doesn’t look upset. Instead...she seems concerned? 

And then she’s not.

She’s yelling at him. Everything she says is true but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. Yes, he was being so selfish and stupid. No, he doesn’t really know why he did it. He’s just frozen. He doesn’t know what to do so he lies. He’s not sure what words he uses exactly, but something implying that it’s all because he really liked her. 

Her expression softens, but she’s definitely confused. Points to her for that - he’s never put out a single vibe that he liked her in that way, so it should be a shock. 

After Eva leaves, he’s alone again, standing in an empty kitchen with a still-full beer and a lump in his throat. Without thinking, he grabs his jacket from the hook by the back door, and leaves, jumping the fence and half-running half-sprinting to the tram stop. It’s all he can think to do. His eyes are burning and his breath is coming in sporadic gasps, and by the time he finally stops, he feels almost dizzy.

There's someone else sitting on the other end of the bench, and Isak feels himself flush with embarrassment. He keeps his eyes trained on his shoes.

After what feels like an eternity sitting there, he looks up to check the schedule and out of the corner of his eye sees the last person he'd expect to see tonight. Even. He’s got headphones in, the street lights casting angular shadows on his face. He’s still so pretty. Though he looks tired now. Like he hasn’t slept well in a week. Isak’s stomach twists into a knot.

He pretends not to have noticed, focusing on the list of departures and arrivals. They're faded from years of exposure to rain and snow but he sees that after 20, the trams only arrive every 30 minutes. Fuck.

He can't help sneaking looks at the other boy while they sit there in silence. He's not sure if Even’s seen him yet. He seems pretty focused on listening to his music. Isak doesn't have the courage to actually say anything though.

Then, Isak's phone starts ringing. Loudly. Even frowns and looks over. His expression softens slightly when they make eye contact, but remains pretty neutral otherwise. Isak fumbles with the volume buttons, trying to make the awkward moment die, but it's too late. The silence is ruined.

“Hey, sorry,” Isak says, giving a nervous little smile. Even’s face stays blank.

“No problem,” He says flatly. He goes back to staring at his phone. Does he not recognize him? Is that even possible?

“I haven't seen you around.” Even doesn't turn his head.

“Yeah, haven't felt like partying lately.” So he does know who he is. 

There’s another long silence. Isak looks away and quickly swipes a hand across his face. It’s dark and Even probably knows he’s been crying but there’s a chance he didn’t know and he doesn’t want to be remembered as crying tram boy rather than guy from party. 

“I don’t like parties that much,” Isak says quietly. Even is silent. Isak shifts awkwardly. His phone starts buzzing. It seems so loud in the silence of the tram stop. He checks the screen. “Mamma” shines too brightly from it. He declines the call. 

“You should probably pick up next time,” Even says, still in that same flat tone.

“It's a... complicated situation.” Even laughs suddenly, and Isak's so thrown off he almost laughs too. “W-what?”

“Complicated situation. Right,” he says without looking up. Isak frowns.

“That's kind of rude to say, don't you think?”

“Yeah. Probably.” Again, not what Isak was expecting. God, this is falling apart at the seams.

“So where have you been?” he asks quietly, and Even gives a heavy sigh. He finally turns to face him, and Isak can feel his heartbeat in his throat.

“We don't know each other. And it'd be better for both of us if we didn't know each other. So let's not...do this,” Even says. Isak can’t really read his expression.

“Why?” He asks, still quiet. Even’s eyes flicker down to his lap then back up.

“Because I don't like you.” Isak immediately feels a lump form in his throat and his cheeks start to burn. It’s like someone just punched him in the chest. “And you don't like me,” Even finishes, and Isak shakes his head.

“So you can read my mind?” He asks, sounding more hurt than even he expected he would. Even closes his eyes and turns back so he’s facing toward the street. 

“You don't know me, Isak,” he says quietly. Isak hates those words. He hates them because they’re true. 

“So?” he asks, trying to keep his voice from breaking.

“So you can't like someone you don't know,” Even says calmly, eyes still closed. Now, Isak’s not sure what he can say. Even’s right. And there’s nothing Isak can do to change that.

“Fine,” he finally says.

“Ok. Good.”

“Great.”

They sit in silence for a while longer before Isak speaks, even though he knows he shouldn’t.

“You always seemed like a nice guy.”

“Yeah well, things aren't always what we think they are, hm?” Another punch in the chest. More silence. 

“So...we’ll probably never see each other again? After this?” he asks finally. 

“Probably.” The tram pulls up. Even doesn't stand. Isak's just stepping on when the boys voice pipes up again. “If things were different…” he trails off. Isak hesitates. “I'm sure I'd like you a lot.”

“Me too.”

He watches Even disappear through the half-fogged window as the tram car pulls away and he wonders if anything is really ever as good as it seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let us know what you think in the comments or on Tumblr! :)
> 
> Follow [poeandbeaux on tumblr ](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com) for more information!  
> Send us prompts [HERE](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com/ask)  
> [Chloe’s tumblr](http://chloebeaux.tumblr.com)!  
> [Priscilla’s tumblr ](http://boxesofflowers.tumblr.com)!  
> 


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok we're back! We took some time after school ended so that we weren't burned out. 
> 
> Thoughts on SKAM Austin?? Priscilla has been doing some really cool fanart! 
> 
> We've just finished writing the end of this part! Sorry for the wait! It's so much better than it would have been earlier! :) <3

How do you lose someone you never had? This is always how he imagined a break up would feel. Except...there was nothing there to begin with. Only his dreams and daydreams. All smoke, no fire.

But it still hurts. It hurts so much. He just needs to forget about him. They'll probably never see each other again anyway. And if they do...Even made it pretty clear he wouldn't be receptive to…anything. At all. So it's time to let it go.

He goes for coffee with Vilde the next afternoon. She has a whole story about Iben’s party – getting wasted, passing out, thinking she was pregnant. He wanted to make a joke about his luck not having to worry about getting anyone pregnant, but he stopped himself before he could. First, he’s pretty sure she knows his...situation, but he can’t be sure. Second, things just don’t feel the way they used to. He’s not really sure why, and he can’t even put his finger on what feels off, but it’s there.

She asks him where he was and he wants to bring up Even. To spill all this disappointment and sadness and anger so he doesn’t have to carry it around anymore. But he doesn’t. Some part of him must feel like if he clings on to any of the emotions, even the negative ones, something actually happened. He needs to know it was real and not just another thing in his mind (even if it was all in his head, the emotions were real. They had to be.). 

“Are you ok, Isak?” She finally asks, and he looks up from his coffee cup. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he says forcing out a light smile. She smiles back, relaxing slightly.

“Ok, good. You were right, about the girls. I didn’t think they’d ever forgive me but they did and everything is just...so much better now. Even with Sana.”

“I’m glad,” he says. He wonders if everyone he wronged will ever forgive him. He doesn’t deserve it. He hopes they will. Someday.

“And I’m not pregnant! Which is really good.” She smiles tightly. He can tell that she’s more upset by everything than she wants to let on.

“Definitely.” He feels like he should say more. She deserves more from him. Some sort of apology or something? She wouldn’t have had to go through any of this if he hadn’t thought he could fix everything.

He stays mostly at home for the next few days - he still goes to school but he doesn’t have much interest in anything other than that. At least the fall term is almost over. Soon he won’t have to worry about assignments or awkward interactions for a whole three weeks. Though honestly, it might end up being worse than it is now.

Things at home are still way too tense. His mom never really fully came out of the funk she was in after his dad left, and things haven’t gotten any easier. He used to be able to fantasize about the apartment in Grunerlokka with Even - white sheets and 20-degree weather and lukewarm green tea. 

Now...that’s gone. 

One day just as he’s leaving class, Eva pulls him aside. He’d almost forgotten what he told her at that stupid party - but he’s hoping he’s a good enough actor to sell it. 

They sit and talk for awhile, and he almost wants her to call him on his bluff. Just so he’s forced to tell the truth. But she doesn’t.

Eventually, the conversation comes around to something he wasn’t prepared for. 

“I know you said that...your family was fine now, but...are you ok? I mean...that was probably really stressful,” she says. 

“Umm…”

“I mean when my parents got divorced...I was really pissed off at both of them even though they were still friends and it was pretty calm,” she rushes to explain. 

“They just had an argument. I’m...I’m fine. No one is getting a divorce,” he says. 

“...ok.”

“Really. Promise. Everything is good,” he says quickly. She narrows her eyes slightly. For a second he thinks she’s going to press the issue some more, but she just nods, pursing her lips.

“I’m still mad but if you need to talk I’m still your friend.”

“Thanks, Eva.”

“I’m still mad, though,” she says and he nods. He wouldn’t expect anything else. 

He’s surprised by how little his life has changed since the beginning of the semester. When he started his first-year he’d been convinced that by the end of it he’d be a different person. And To some extent, that’s true. He went to some parties. He got a real diagnosis. He actually kissed a boy. But really, now, studying for endless exams and without the ability to act on or address any of his newfound pieces, he’s back to where he was at the beginning. It’s so stagnant. It’s like a sitcom where his entire life is just an extended joke and it all resets at the end of the episode. He’s down to probably two, maybe three friends again. And Even...isn’t in his life. There’s no great love story. 

The next day, he sees Even and doesn’t approach him. That part of his life is over. It never even happened. 

It’s when he’s walking home from class. He decided he was going to go to a further tram stop - it would take longer to get home but that was even better. He loves riding the tram. It makes him feel like he’s in another world. A world where nothing actually matters.

He’s walking past a KB he’s never been to before when he sees him in the window. He’s got a notebook and a pen and looks pretty focused on whatever music he’s listening to. 

Isak imagines going inside. Getting a coffee. Sitting down. Saying hi, Even smiling. But he just keeps walking. 

He tries not to think about it, but at 2 AM when he’s lying awake, he can’t help but indulge. There’s some universe where he gets to be with him. They’re together and everything’s ok. And someone loves him the way he wants them to. He doesn’t want to cry over something so stupid, but his throat feels tight and his eyes are watering. He falls asleep before he can make things worse.

Why does the universe - or whatever force out there - keep putting them together if it’s never going to happen? He hopes they really never see each other again. Chances are they won’t, but knowing his luck…

He tries to focus on studying for his final exams. It helps that he actually likes most of the topics, but he’s been out of school so much this term some of it is just...stumping him. Which is stressful, considering that his dad is definitely going to have a fit if he scores below a 5+ on any of these.

At this point though, the threat of anything from his dad is meaningless. He really doesn’t have much left to lose, does he? 

One afternoon, just before his final class of the day ends, he gets a text from his father.

_im coming to pick you up._

Shit. He’s not exactly sure what that means. Well, it means for one thing that Isak won’t be walking home, but other than that, he’s not sure. He sits through the rest of the class in a mixture of terror and nerves, and by the time he finally gets out into the yard, he feels like he might throw up.

He’s relieved for a moment when he doesn’t see his father’s slick black car parked by the curb but it isn’t long before he finds it.

He climbs into the car, shutting the door carefully, and waits for his father to say something. Anything. But he doesn’t, just starts to drive.

He feels so out of place. This is an expensive car. Leather seats, sleek black details - he doesn’t belong here. His family has money, he knows that, but he’s never really felt it. Their house is nice and everything but none of that is his. His father gives him money for clothes and books once a month and that’s all he sees of it. Not that he can complain, obviously, but seeing how much money his father really makes is just...off putting. 

“Pappa?” He finally asks, and his father sighs.

“What?” He huffs, and Isak plays with one of the straps on his backpack.

“Why did you -”

“Why did I come and pick you up?” he finishes, and Isak nods. His breath smells odd. Sharp, almost. “I was thinking...Well, I was thinking we could spend some time together.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes. That’s all,” he snaps, and the car swerves toward the curb for a moment before getting back on track. “If I were to...I were to divorce your mother,” he says, and Isak keeps his eyes trained on his shoes. “You’d live with me, right?” Isak’s quiet.

The car swerves again, and Isak looks up from the floor.

“A son respects his father,” Terje says, and Isak stays silent. “A son…a son appreciates what his father does for him.”

The car slams to a stop at a red light, and Isak can feel his heart beating too fast.

“I do,” he says softly, his eyes back on his shoes.

They start to move again.

“Isak. I-”

There’s a loud sound and Isak feels his chest slam hard against his seatbelt, knocking the air out of his lungs. There’s something that feels like a punch in his side, and his ears start to ring. There’s a car horn blaring, and the smell of burnt rubber and his head is spinning. 

“Fucking hell!” His father shouts, and Isak struggles to take a breath. When he can finally see straight he realizes they’ve hit another car. The door next to him is crumpled, and the window is broken. There’s a hot band of pain across his chest and ribs - where his body was stopped by the seatbelt. He focuses all his energy on holding back tears. But fuck, it hurts. He curls his knees into his aching chest and tries not to pass out.

There’s a door slam and some shouting, and Isak tries to keep breathing. That’s all he can focus on right now. Breathing.

He ends up in the emergency room. He’s not sure what happened to his dad - he was being questioned by some police officers while Isak was being loaded into the ambulance, but since then Isak hasn’t seen him. Personally, he thought the ambulance was a bit much, but the paramedics seemed concerned so he didn’t fight them on it. He was too terrified to do anything really. Shocked. 

The doctor in the ER tells him if the car hit just a few inches to the right he might’ve died. That information doesn’t help. 

He gets released late that night with a few stitches in his arm from the broken glass and some extra strength acetaminophen for the bruises on his chest. He doesn’t have a concussion, but his head kills. And, he still doesn’t know what happened to his dad. Neither of his parents have been answering his texts or calls, which isn’t really unusual but it isn’t super helpful at a time like this.

Jonas comes to pick him up. Isak’s never been happier to see him, and he tries to make their embrace last as long as he can. Jonas rubs his back and they just stand there for a while, Isak just trying to forget everything that’s happened. 

They ride home on the tram together. Jonas offers to let him sleep over, but Isak declines even though he’s dreading going home. He has to face what’s happening. 

By the time he walks through the front door, he feels almost numb. His mother and father are arguing. 

“Terje, I told you! You can’t drive drunk!” She shouts, and Isak stops in his tracks, waiting to hear the rest of the conversation.

“I wasn’t drunk! That asshole -”

“You ran a red light!” She snaps, and he lets out an aggravated sigh.

“Is that really relevant right now?”

“Of course it’s-!” Her sentence ends abruptly.

Isak walks carefully into the living room, clearing his throat. Both their heads snap to his direction.

“Isak! Love!” His mother says, and he’s almost upset he feels a surge of joy. She rushes over to him, takes his face in her hands. “What happened, baby?” He swallows thickly. 

His eyes dart over her shoulder, and his father raises his eyebrows. 

“Pappa was driving and...someone hit us. From the side,” he mumbles, shoving his hands into his pockets. His mother frowns and turns back toward his father. 

“Because we were in an argument, and you were distracting me,” his father snaps, and Isak nods.

“Yes,” he says softly.

“Was I drunk?” That would make a lot of sense, actually, now that Isak thinks about it. His breath, the swerving. But he knows what his answer should be.

“No, pappa.”

“See Marianne?” he snaps, and she frowns.

“Why were you arguing with your father?” her anger is turned on him now.

“I...uh-”

“Forget this. Just go to your room, please,” she says, and he nods.

Once he’s in bed he’s out like a light, but he can’t stay asleep for very long without waking up to some kind of throbbing somewhere on his body. He could’ve died. Just like that, he could’ve died. Maybe that’s what’s keeping him up more than anything.

He wants to call Vilde or Jonas or someone to come and sit next to him and make him feel like he isn’t so alone, but he won’t. He can’t. Maybe he just needs to learn that this is the way things are. That he’s just meant to be alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let us know what you think in the comments or on Tumblr! :)
> 
> Follow [poeandbeaux on tumblr ](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com) for more information!  
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> 


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright we're really nearing the end now...just this one and one more chapter before the next part! 
> 
> <3

Jonas invites him to a tree lighting party. He almost feels like things are back the way they always were – Isak and Jonas, best friends. Isak, helplessly in love. Jonas, oblivious. It almost feels comfortable, even though it sort of hurts. It’s familiar, at least. Being in love with Jonas.

So he goes to the party. It’s freezing, and it makes the stitches on his arm hurt and his chest feel tight. Even though it’s been more than a week everything still hurts like it’s fresh. Every time he thinks he might be able to forget what happened it’s there to remind him.

At first, he can’t find anyone he knows. He’s wandering through the sea of people for a while before he spots Vilde. He waves, but she averts her gaze. When he actually walks up to her, she furrows her eyebrows and pulls him away from the crowd before he can get a word out.

“Wha-” She cuts him off.

“Isak, I don’t want Eva to know we’re friends,” she whispers, and he almost laughs. Or...he would if it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as the crash. He still can’t seem to catch his breath and Vilde...doing whatever she’s doing isn’t helping.

“Why not?” He asks, trying to keep the hysteria out of his voice. It doesn’t entirely work because even though she frowns slightly, but she doesn’t pause. 

“You broke up her and Jonas. And they’re all just starting to like me again. I can’t…” She bites her lip. “I love you. So much. But it’s just better if people don’t know we’re friends.” His heart sinks.

“V…” His voice shakes this time and he swallows hard. He’s not really surprised. Why would anyone want to be around him? It still hurts. 

“Please, Isak. Just until things are better. We can always do things outside of school.”

He looks down at his shoes. His vision is blurring slightly and his face feels hot. He wipes his right hand roughly across his face, wincing slightly at the pull in his ribs. 

“Yeah. Ok,” he says shortly. 

She beams, pulling him into a hug. 

“Thank you so much! Really, I promise I’ll make it up to you.” With that, she’s gone. He really fucked himself over, huh?

He stands there for a while, focusing on the feeling of the wind on his exposed skin. He’s freezing, but it’s better than actually thinking about what just happened. 

He sort of understands her logic, but even so...it hurts. He knows it’s not true, but part of him thinks she’s outgrown him. She has new friends and she doesn’t need him. But that’s not true. She won’t tell them about her mom or her past or her real problems. That’s what Isak is for. 

He’s not sure how long he’s standing there before the girl he’s seen hanging around Eva comes up to him. 

“Can I borrow your phone? You’re Isak, right?” He nods, handing it over without a second thought. “I’m Noora, don’t know if we’ve met.”

“Nice to meet you,” he says, trying to sound anything other than how he’s actually feeling.

“Thank you so much, I’ll give it right back, my phone’s dead.” She taps a few times before swearing. “Shit. You don’t have Vilde’s number, do you? Vilde Hellerud?” He hesitates before shaking his head. “Ok, uh...I’ll be right back.” She takes off through the crowd and he’s not alone for long before Jonas appears by his side.

“Hey! Let’s get a drink.”

A few minutes later, they’re standing in front of the tree, each with a paper cup of something hot that smells like rum and cinnamon. 

“How are you?” Jonas finally asks, and Isak takes a little sip of his drink. “Healing well?” Isak nods. “Nice. That was so insane, car crash...damn.”

“It happens more than you’d think. Cars crash all the time,” he says softly, and Jonas sighs.

“I wanna say I’m sorry,” he says, and Isak frowns. He takes another little sip of the hot drink, finally feeling at least somewhat warm.

“For what?” Jonas laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. 

“For being a shitty friend the past few months.” 

“You weren’t a shitty friend,” he lies, and Jonas smirks, shaking his head slightly. 

“Yeah. I was. You’re going through a lot. I should’ve been there for you. And I wasn’t. And I wish I could go back and change it, but I can’t. So I just have this crappy apology. I hope you can...forgive me. I was an ass.” Isak can feel his heart racing. All these things he never thought Jonas would say. 

“Of course I’ll forgive you. You’re my best friend.” They share a quick hug, and Isak thinks he might melt. It’s that familiar warm feeling he gets whenever they touch. 

“I broke up with Eva, by the way. Well, she broke up with me.”

“Really?” He asks, trying not to sound as happy as he really feels.

“Yeah. I mean, it was pretty mature if I’m honest. Self-aware, in a way. I still really respect her, obviously.” Isak nods, still trying not to seem interested.

“How did it happen?” He asks softly, letting as much sympathy as he can leak into his voice.

“She invited me over and we had tea and talked and-” he laughs, cutting himself off. 

“What?”

“We had sex,” he says after a long pause.

“Before or after?” Isak stutters out, laughing. Jonas smirks.

“After.”

“Shut up, no you didn’t,” he shoots back, and Jonas raises his eyebrows. Again, this feels so familiar. Like nothing’s changed. Like the last few months haven’t been some of the worst of his life. It feels good to forget for a minute. To just laugh with his best friend and feel normal.

“Yeah! Like...break up sex or something. That’s a thing, right?”

“I guess so. You’d know more than me,” Isak says suddenly feeling slightly awkward. There’s another long pause before Jonas speaks up.

“You’ll find a girl, Isak. You’re a catch,” he says, suddenly more serious. Isak feels himself blush.

“Yeah? You think?”

“Yeah, totally. You’re super handsome.” He can feel his cheeks burning, his smile so wide it hurts a little bit.

“Is!” Chris says, wrapping Isak in a one-armed hug and planting his face in the side of Isak’s curls. Now he’s positive he’s bright red.

“Hey, Chris. Uh, Jonas...this is Chris,” he says slowly, trying half-heartedly to get Chris off, even though his cheeks ache from smiling. Jonas frowns.

“Yeah. We’ve met,” he says, deadpan.

“It’s not personal,” Chris says, still wearing his signature smirk. 

“Yeah. Totally,” Jonas says, voice flat. “Sorry, we were actually having a conversation,” he says, and Chris raises his eyebrows, smiling.

“Ooohhh. Serious conversation?” He asks, turning toward Isak and Isak laughs. 

“I’ll talk to you later, yeah?” He asks softly, and Chris nods and Isak hopes Jonas can’t tell he’s really enjoying Chris’s arm around his shoulders. 

“Call me, pretty boy,” Chris says, walking away, and Isak rolls his eyes, smile fading. 

“Or maybe you’ll have a break up at some point,” Jonas says quietly. 

“Huh? Didn’t you already say that?” Isak asks. Jonas squints slightly. 

“Ok. Yeah. Must have,” he says. “You guys seem close.” He’s not even trying to hide his bitterness.

“Chris? We’re friends. I guess.” Even he knows he sounds like a liar.

“Really? His personality doesn’t seem like you two would get along,” Jonas counters, and Isak shrugs.

“Yeah, he’s not always like...that. He can be really nice.”

“Right.”

“Whatever. When are they lighting this thing?” He asks, gesturing at the huge Christmas tree, trying to get the attention off himself and onto literally anything else.

“Soon, I guess. Midnight, maybe?” Jonas offers, and Isak laughs.

“That’s new year’s, stupid.”

“Shut up!”

The lights suddenly come up, and everyone starts to clap.

“I guess they heard you talking shit,” Jonas says, and Isak laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let us know what you think in the comments or on Tumblr! :)
> 
> Follow [poeandbeaux on tumblr ](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com) for more information!  
> Send us prompts [HERE](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com/ask)  
> [Chloe’s tumblr](http://chloebeaux.tumblr.com)!  
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> 


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok! Last chapter! We are currently writing the next part(s). We're probably going to post at least one shorter piece in this universe before the SKAM season 2 part. Thank you so much for sticking with this! We hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Feel free to talk to us on tumblr (either our shared writing blog or or our personals)!!! 
> 
> Warning! Some violence in this chapter. Also religion written by two people who don't go to church except when their grandmothers are around.

About a week and a half later it’s actually Christmas Eve and his family, as always, is going to church. It’s an understatement to say he doesn’t like church. He despises it. 

Christmas time has never been as fun for him as he supposes it must be for other people. His family doesn’t really do gifts or fancy meals. Christmas is a time for prayer and celebration through the church. When he was little he’d get a few gifts - too big _mariusgenser_ s and some candy or a few books - but now he’s lucky if he gets an envelope of cash from his dad sometime during the week.

But of course, they never skimp on the actual religious aspects. Over the years his mother has sunk herself into the bible - at first, Isak thought it might just be because she’s alone at home all the time, but it’s gotten to a point that makes him uncomfortable. But who is he to judge her? He wishes he could have something like that. Something he really believes in with his whole heart. He needs something that he can trust and rely on. Something beyond his control. Something that knows what’s good for him and where he belongs. 

No matter how many times he’s tried, he can’t seem to make it work. It never feels real. 

But of course, all that doesn’t change the fact he has to attend church every Sunday and every holiday. It can be pleasant sometimes. It’s calm. It’s predictable. 

So much has changed since last Christmas. His mom was doing well, his dad wasn’t drinking, his heart wasn’t broken, and he wasn’t diagnosed with schizophrenia. 

Now...now he’s struggling.

He knows what’s been going on isn’t right. He knows that he shouldn’t have to deal with all of this. He shouldn’t have to be on his guard all the time. Except...he is. If he wasn’t, well, Isak isn’t sure if he’d still be around. (And he can’t help but feel like maybe it’s all his fault. If he was normal and...lovable...maybe his parents wouldn’t-)

And he knows he’s to blame for some of his problems. But he really can’t go to Dr. Hansen because he’s pretty sure his parents would find out. He’s barely been able to hide his medication as is. And Dr. Skrulle is both too perceptive and too frightening. And they’re pretty much the only adults who even know his name besides his parents. 

And it’s really his fault for falling for unavailable boys-

Isak is jerked out of his thoughts by Terje’s hand squeezing his forearm, dangerously close to his stitches. 

“Pay attention,” he whispers harshly. “Fy faen,” he continues under his breath.

The service is clearly almost over, and Isak tries to listen.

“Lift up your hearts,” the priest says, and Isak hates that the next words come so easily, in concert with everyone.

“We lift them up to the lord,” they all say, and Isak closes his eyes.

“Let us give thanks to the Lord our God,” the priest says.

“It is right and just.”

“Celebrating the most sacred night on which blessed Mary the immaculate Virgin brought forth the Saviour for this world, and in communion with those whose memory we venerate, especially the glorious ever-Virgin Mary, Mother of our God and Lord, Jesus Christ, Amen.”

After mass, they always stick around for the stupid small talk that goes along with church. He’s mostly quiet, nodding and smiling when people ask him questions or say his name.

As soon as they walk through the front doors, Terje grabs Isak’s arm and roughly pulls him to the side. They’re standing in the shadow of the building behind one of the small decorative bushes. It’ll do nothing to obstruct them from the view of the entire congregation if his father lashes out. Isak is almost counting on it. Except...they’d stayed inside socializing for so long that there’s almost no one around and the priest is just locking up now and walking towards his apartment so it’s just him and his father in a parking lot late at night standing behind a decorative bush, his mother sitting in the car 15 meters away.

“You think you’re so much better than all this? Is that it?” Terje starts once the parking lot is clear. 

“Papa-”

“Don’t talk back to me,” he says. Isak opens his mouth to protest and feels a sharp pain on the side of his face. An open-handed slap. “Do you ever learn?” 

Isak shakes his head and looks down at the ground. 

“Look at me while I’m talking!” Terje says grabbing his chin and forcing him to look up at him. “You know how important this day is to your mother and I. We are respected here. This is a sacred place. And you think you’re above it all? Everyone can see you, Isak. Everyone can see, don’t think they can’t.”

“I know,” he says quietly.

“So if you know, why do you act like this? You just don’t care? People already say enough about us. About your mother. You really want them to hate her?”

“No.” Isak stares at his shoes, the imprint of the slap burning on his cheek.

“I don’t ask a lot from you, do I? I don’t. I really don’t.”

“No, you don’t,” Isak agrees quietly. 

“Come on. We’re leaving,” he says, and Isak doesn’t move. “Get in the car.”

“No.” His voice is soft, but it's hard to make the words leave his mouth.

“Isak, get in the goddamn car or I swear we will be having a much more serious conversation.”

He doesn’t even look up from his shoes, and Terje grabs his arm. He yanks it away, and before he can think twice, he turns and runs, half falling into one of the bushes, not looking back. He runs until he feels like he can’t stand, his heart feels like it’s going to jump out of his chest.

He’s in front of a McDonalds. He could call Jonas. Vilde. Chris, even. They’re probably with their families though. Celebrating Christmas. Or asleep. It’s pretty late. Besides, they probably don’t want to hear from him anyway. They might say they don’t mind, but they do. He knows they do. If he can’t stand himself, why should anyone else be expected to have to deal with him?

He ends up in the same McDonalds he always ends up in. All alone. Back where he started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let us know what you think in the comments or on Tumblr! :)
> 
> Follow [poeandbeaux on tumblr ](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com) for more information!  
> Send us prompts [HERE](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com/ask)  
> [Chloe’s tumblr](http://chloebeaux.tumblr.com)!  
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> 


End file.
